


star fragments

by spaceOdementia



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, I'm avoiding the political implications of Hyrule, Light-Hearted, Plot What Plot, Post-Game, but still some angst, minimal angst, not sure where this will go, not very serious, relationship building, supposed to be humorous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-11-11 08:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 61,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11144337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceOdementia/pseuds/spaceOdementia
Summary: Being a princess is a life of sacrifice. After beginning their new journey to find their places and rediscover Hyrule after Calamity Ganon, Zelda begins to realize she’s missed out on several experiences her land has to offer. Fortunately for her, Link knows everything.





	1. i. In which the beginning is a practice in fumbling toward their old friendship

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a collection of drabbles, interconnected one-shots, or something in between, but this is definitely a practice to write and get back into doing something that I enjoy. Also, this game was probably the most Link/Zelda there has ever been? Maybe? I don't know, but the game was so beautiful and I loved it so much I didn't want to leave, hence this story. It'll mainly be Link and Zelda traveling together, Zelda learning about Link's experiences, going through experiences she's never been in that I experienced while playing, etc.  
> I will attempt to make updates frequent, and when I have time to sit down and write. However, this is mostly out of a long forgotten need for me to write again, because I've missed it. I hope others enjoy it, too!

Zelda inhales the sunny breeze without abandon. She’s missed this in its entirety—the smell of the wild grasses, the shade from the trees, the lapping waves of the rivers caressing the lining of the banks. The subtleties of the outside world, the things she had not known she had taken for granted until she was swallowed and sealed away, give her an irrepressible sense of joy and wonder. She can’t stop smiling at everything she sees. She sighs when sunbeams hit her face through the openings between the branches of trees, and she gasps and exclaims when she sees any type of living thing that is just recognizable enough. Summerwing butterflies and hearty truffles have always been abundant along the roads around Hyrule Field, and that 100 years later they are still thriving as if she never left brings her such a tremendous joy that she can’t help but grasp Link’s forearm when she sees them. 

“Link!” she says. “Oh, isn’t so wonderful? I know a century is a mere drop in the time of nature, but the fact that Calamity Ganon was unable to form a desolate wasteland—and even so, that some of the world even remained somewhat untouched by its effects—it’s…it’s a marvelous thing.” 

She turns her eyes away from the scenery of the vast Hyrule Field and looks at Link, smiling wide. His demeanor is amused as he watches her, and he has a small quirk of his lips that is encouraging to see. It’s only been a few days since their victory, and while he has been wholeheartedly the Link she remembers, there is still a small lacking. He’s not quite sure how to act around her, and he’s almost done several things he used to do after they had warmed up to each other. Those things include talking in full sentences, calling her Zelda, and letting her hold his forearm brace when leisurely walking together. He’s been stilted in his words, as if he wants to speak more, but can’t—or perhaps he is unsure of what to say or how to say them. He remembers some things, she knows. He found all of the memories she left for him in the hopes that he’d remember some of himself with them, the people who impacted him, the moments that, she thought and hoped beyond all else, mattered most with the pictures she had on the slate. Because of this, she thinks he’s almost to the point of speaking to her as openly as he used to before. He, perhaps, just needs a few more memories of them together, or more time. One of the puzzle pieces that makes up his fabric, whatever that may be, that he needs. She’s been thinking of when to bring up the past he opened up to her about, how his childhood was, how his opinions were about her father, her devotion to prayer, among other things. Maybe a few more days. She will be patient. With Link, being patient has always been the best way. 

Calling her Zelda, however, she’ll make sure to gently scold him whenever he calls her princess, and bows, and is so utterly, stiffly formal. She’s missed that easy warmth between them for so long, and being able to walk up to him after 100 years of captivity was something out of a dream—out of what helped to fuel her when she felt weak, or tired, or on the fine edge of wanting to give up. When that happened, she’d imagine when Link would wake up, and the promise they gave to each other. To the bitter end, they would fight for Hyrule, the people, but also for one another. 

To feel his presence finally awaken was an energizing breath of fresh air. She was rejuvenated, her purpose renewed. She could talk to him in brief bouts, in between keeping Ganon’s wrath held hostage in the sanctum, and then see him in her periphery when the Master Sword came back into his possession. But seeing him, standing tall and strong and nearly unscathed before her underneath the open sky, his hair gleaming with a brilliant golden shine under the sunlight, his eyes as strikingly blue as ever, staring into her deeply and unabashedly like he used to was a moment of a lifetime. Unforgettable and quite literally a century in the making. 

She’ll be honest. She’s never wanted to run into his arms and kiss him more than that moment. There have been times she wanted to before. 

As for the last point, holding his brace within her fingers…the familiarity for Zelda is there, but since Link hasn’t reestablished that same sense of comfort around her, she doesn’t think it would be fair for him. It’s too soon for that, anyway. If she’s sincere about it with herself, too, she will admit that she feels an increased bout of shyness around him. It isn’t unpleasant—in fact, it’s quite the opposite. Her stomach does backflips and has a nest of butterflies that live in there when he looks at her or they graze arms when walking. Back 100 years ago, being around him was comforting, and warming, like a blanket protecting her from bitter cold. She would feel those prickles of feeling now and again if she let herself. Now, it’s tenfold. It’s heightened in an unstoppable force, barreling through her as if it’s a sledgehammer against her ribcage. 

It must be because they’re free, she thinks. Truly free. They don’t have a looming darkness spreading over them, nor do they have the burden of saving the world on their shoulders anymore. They have a lot of rebuilding to do, certainly, a lot of reconnections to make and they will more than likely travel the world a time or three to gain some semblance of a kingdom, if that’s what the world needs. But without that, the immediate role of a prophecy and branding of the triforce, all of those old inhibitions have seemed to diminish within her. The love she fostered a century ago has only seemed to grow and flourish over the time that Link had been repairing in sleep, encompassing her to oversaturation like a flash flooding. 

It matured in her, while it was rearranged and forgotten in him. When she asked him that first question on the Hyrule bridge,

“Do you truly remember me?”

He hesitated for a long moment, but he was smiling all the while as he looked upon her. “I do remember you, princess,” he said. “The memories you left me…” He took a few steps forward. “I remember them, and I remember how I felt during them. The time in between them…my past before those memories…” he trailed. His faint smile faded and a frown appeared and deepened across his lips. “I’m afraid those memories aren’t as clear.”

She walked forward to meet him. She negated his frown with a soft, reassuring smile and lifted a hand. Meaning to brush it across his cheek, she stopped herself before reaching his face, curling her fingers and bringing her hand down to rest upon his forearm instead. 

“Don’t worry, hero,” she said, using the name in what sounded like an endearment instead of a title. “They’ll all come back. Now that I’m here to help, I’m sure you’ll be up to speed in no time.”

His eyes followed her hand in its disjointed journey, watching as it rested on him in a look she could only call bafflement. Then his jaw clenched, in the way that it used to when he was holding back saying something he had not deemed worthy to say, and nodded. 

Back in the present, Link speaks. “It is because of you.”

“What is?”

He nods his head towards nothing in particular. “The field. The roads. The rest of Hyrule that you haven’t seen.”

“Ah,” she says, looking back toward the broken castle in the distance. “It was my destiny, after all. I’m…happy I lived up to the expectations the goddesses had for me. I regret the lives lost, and the prevalent emptiness that surrounds us.” She turns to him. “I am, however, excited to see the towns and more of the people. There’s hope in that.”

Link nods in agreement, and he continues to stare at her. She maintains it, wondering if he’s remembering something or thinking of something he wants to say. They hold that for several more seconds, and Zelda almost becomes uncomfortable, though she can’t deny that it’s supremely pleasant to look upon him. She’s not sure if she’ll ever get used to seeing him here, in front of her, tangible, whole, skin flushed with a strong heartbeat. Then she becomes intrigued when Link blinks, looking away and rubbing the nape of his neck in embarrassment. A light dusting of pink rides on his cheekbones. 

“Um…” he mutters. “Forgive me, princess.”

That’s all he says, which isn’t surprising. It really inflames Zelda’s curiosity, and she has to hold herself back from asking forthright what in the world he’s thinking. 

“Zelda,” she admonishes lightly. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

He’s silent for a few moments, and when she thinks the situation is over, he speaks up.  
“It’s…improper…for me to stare at you.”

So perhaps he was just staring at her to stare. If he thinks that’s a great offense to her, he’s much mistaken. She can’t help the smirk that creeps up on her face. 

“Please, Link,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s been a century since we’ve seen each other. Stare all you’d like.”

She’s a bit astounded at how the words come out of her, and he must be too, because his cheeks darken more. He glances up and catches her eye again. 

“Then…you can stare at me, too. If you’d like,” he adds, punctuating it with a careless shrug as if to attempt to offset his blushing, and there’s something about the way he says it. It’s as if he knows he’s attractive to her—or perhaps, attractive in general—and can hardly care one way or another about it. 

She clears her throat, determined not to outwardly show her own embarrassment. She’s never denied she’s as stubborn as a bull. “Don’t flatter yourself, Link,” she says, walking past them toward their horses. Her nose might as well have been up in the air with how haughty she sounds. “Just because you’re the hero doesn’t mean I won’t be able to take my eyes off you.”

“I’ll ride behind you,” he says, and she hears him take his place atop his stead. “That way you have no temptation.”

Her lips quirk, and she mounts her horse, too. “And an excuse for you to stare even more?”

She looks at him when he shrugs, again, all nonchalant. “Don’t flatter yourself, princess.”

She huffs, and it almost comes out as a laugh. He’s being…himself. She can’t help but bubble up with excitement. 

“Zelda,” she emphasizes. “And you can’t fool me, Link. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

They turn towards the road toward south Hyrule Field with Whistling Hill rising up in the distance. Then they’ll pass through Horwell and Eagus Bridge to head north towards Zora’s Domain. They convened on the map together, tracing the best and least stressful path to get there. There would be people on the roads, but how many would truly recognize her? Better to make small steps than large, unnecessary strides in the gossip world, if that would even be a problem. 

Instead of trotting behind her, as he said he would, he comes up alongside her horse. He asks her a bit stilted, “I’m a terrible liar?”

She opens her mouth, about to tease him again, but realizes he’s asking because he honestly wants to know. 

She closes her mouth for a moment, then opens it when she decides on what to say. 

“The worst,” she says. “Only because you’re so honest. It’s the way your eyes look, when you say something you don’t mean.”

“My eyes?”

“Yes…” she says. “You know, like when lightning flashes and you watch it, so it leaves a shadow in your eyes? It’s…like that. Your eyes flash, a little, and they darken some, and then they look a little blank as if you’re trying to shut off all the emotions in you to not give it away.”

When the silence stretches after she explains, she realizes how crazy she must sound, describing him to himself. There’s too much detail in what I said, she thinks. I rambled too much on his eyes, what they do…he must wonder why I know something like that so specifically, but it’s just…oh, how embarrassing. 

Anxiety builds up in the pit of her stomach, and her mouth feels like it’s in a bumpy, uncomfortable line across her face. It shouldn’t—after all, they did become close friends. She’s been trying to keep up the pretense that they are still close friends, because he’s still her close friend, even if only in theory. He doesn’t feel that way fully yet, and it’s hard to put this in place with her feelings, and how much she should say, what she shouldn’t say, and where to draw the line right now. She went with instinct, being herself and trying not to act like there’s a 100 year rift between them, but it’s still…different. Different in a way she can’t fully explain to herself. She swallows, not looking at him, and tries to sit up straighter on her horse. 

Finally, after what feels like a year or five (Zelda has noticed that her concept of time is still skewed, and she doesn’t know when five minutes have passed versus an hour—it’s deeply frustrating), Link says, “It seems you spent a great deal of time 100 years ago studying my…lying.”

Not just that, she thinks. She attempts his apathetic shrugging technique, still refraining from looking at him. 

“You were…interesting. I like mystery. That’s all.”

He contemplates this for a while, and by the time they’re through most of the field, he speaks again. 

“You loved researching ancient technology and different wildlife…” It’s a statement and a question. Zelda remembers the way he spoke like this before, amid an answer and an inquiry. It’s a very distinctly Link trait, she’s determined. 

“Yes,” she says. “You know I love researching. It’s a pastime, and it was something to do to…take my mind off of my failures.” It amazes her now, how easy it is to talk about failure. It used to be hard to acknowledge the word at all. “But I enjoyed it immensely. It was as if that was what I was born to do. To learn, to be curious, to figure things out. It’s gratifying, and it helped that I was good at it. That I enjoy it is a bonus.” She turns her head towards him, giving him a smile. “Don’t be surprised if I force us to stop several times when I see something I want to take a picture of, as it’s bound to happen.”

He nods at her. “Of course, princess.”

She sighs. 

Patience, she reminds herself. Patience and observation. It seems he’ll unknowingly be her research subject yet again.


	2. ii. In which Link shares shrines and stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small detour before Zora's Domain--but they'll arrive in the third chapter!

“Fascinating.”

“Incredible.”

“Amazing—I’ve always wondered what the insides of these structures looked like.”

Link hears these words, along with several slight variations on these words, throughout their entire span inside the shrine. His lips quirk up on their own accord at the awe that laces every inch of her words, and at how she scans each and every crevice with an endearing and inquisitive reverence. She snaps pictures in all the corners, and she pauses at the old Sheikah pedestal as if she’s trying to imagine what a mummified, ancient monk could look like. 

He gave her the explanation of the shrine beforehand—mainly, he answered what she questioned. What did the shrine have inside? Were they all different, were some the same? What types of trials did this one give him? 

This one was the Wahgo Katta shrine, settled into the slope just north of the Riverside Stable. Hylians were milling about in that area, and the princess—Zelda, he kept reminding himself to think—seemed a little flustered with nervousness or anxiety. He was not sure if it was because of it being the first encounter with her people, or if she was wondering if they would recognize her. Either way, no one paid them any mind. Everyone, especially individuals around or near stables, usually were travelers of trade or nomads. When Zelda saw the shrine, it seemed to take her mind off her anxiety, and her attention was diverted immediately.

“Metal Connections,” he had told her. “The name of the trial.”

She took in the surroundings, then she guessed at what the trial entailed. 

“So using the Sheikah Slate you brought the metal cubes over to the other platform…climbed them…obtained the spirit orb…” 

He showed her how to access the runes on the slate, demonstrated how the metal cubes highlighted in the display, and the controls for movement. She took a while to get used to it, and Link had to jump out of the way at times to avoid getting slammed by sides and corners of the cubes—to which Zelda would exclaim profuse apologies and make sure he was okay. Link was heavily amused by the whole ordeal. She was not a natural. She was klutzy and unsure, two words Link did not believe to ever think about when in the presence of the princess, but she got better and better over the hour she practiced. She staked the cubes together, climbed them, worked her way around them, all the while he was panicked at the continuous thoughts of her falling and cracking her skull. He remained underneath her or beside her as she made the precarious climbs. When she decided to make it to the area which would be the end of the shrine were it incomplete, she began to stack the metal cubes into a makeshift staircase, before realizing the method wouldn’t work. Funny, Link thought, that her solving process was quite similar to his own. 

Once her exploration was finished, her eyes bright and vivacious with a new experience, she said with exuberance, “I saw another shrine to the northeast. Since it’s on the way, it wouldn’t hurt to explore that one, would it?”

Link could do nothing but nod. Why not? He remembers her frustration at not being able to access them 100 years passed, him being the key she did not want him to be for a brief moment in time. He remembers that instance vividly—how he felt, her coldness, his confusion—it is all very real and tangible, but it is also from another lifetime he has to keep reminding himself occurred. Some pieces return slow and steady. Others abruptly. And many, many not at all. He doesn’t think they will, not most of them. He’s spent his days in the mind of trying acceptance for this. His past may have molded him into the man he is today, but who he is now is instinctual and natural, even without the memories of how he came to be who he is. True, he feels half a being this way, oft times bereft and lonely, but on the bright side—if it is a bright side—he’s never been inclined to share burdens. So, in a way, he’s always been alone and on his own. This is a natural feeling, too. This thought reassures him in his times of doubt. 

Now, they are crossing Horwell Bridge along the main path. Zelda points off to their left. 

“That shrine, in the middle of the river. I remember seeing that one on our…previous travels,” she says lightly. She holds up her slate. “Hila Rao…do you remember that one?”

Link pauses to think. Yeah, he remembers that one, especially the woman watching guard for her flowers. Link stepped on two petals and was dragged off the landing by his ear. 

“Yes…” Link answers. “There’s a pleasant lady who watches the flowers there.”

Zelda beams at this, looking over to him. “Really? That’s quite a job to…” she trails, caught on his face. 

He is very curious as to what she sees on it, but he’s not sure even a mirror would help him see his own lies.

“…are you lying?” she asks after a few contemplative seconds. 

Link shrugs. “You’re the expert. You tell me.”

Her jaw opens a little, and he feels astounded by his audacity and choice of words directed toward the princess—and oddly enough—he feels at ease. Two warring, completely opposite feelings compose inside of him, and he is in a cacophony of discord. On one side, he wants to smile at her, tease her incessantly, and on the other he wants to maintain a comfortable formality, as is proper. 

Because of these, it is only necessary that his face remain blank and incorrigible. 

“Hm,” she breathes out. “Fine. Pull that card, hero,” she intones with false irritation. He knows it’s false, because she can’t hide a small smile. “But you are lying about something.”

Once they somehow make it into the Hila Rao shrine, because it was a chore even making it into the shrine, Zelda whirls on him.

“I barely even grazed the flower petal with my ankle! Hardly even touched it! Did you see that?”

Link opens his mouth, “Uh…no.”

“Ugh! Don’t lie!” she says, throwing up her hands. 

“I didn’t know you touched it in the first place.”

She looks at him again, and deeming his sentence truthful this time, sighs. “At least we agree on that.”

Link bites his cheek, keeping his lips from turning up. He also clears his throat. He doesn’t think he’s talked nor suppressed this many smiles in the entirety of his journey toward Hyrule Castle to save her. He keeps drinking from his water skin to keep his voice from rasping. 

“The nerve of that lady…” Zelda continues, her floodgates loosened. Once she’s started to let her thoughts on a subject come out, she doesn’t stop until every thought is outside of her. “She even scolded me on breathing too heavily on the tulips when I bent down to smell them! And then told me my nose was too close for comfort. Comfort to the _flowers.”_ She scoffs. “Pleasant. Yeah, right. I knew you were lying about something.”

“Now you know. But her quirk isn’t that strange, all things considered.”

She raises a brow at him. “Isn’t strange? Compared to who?”

_You,_ he wants to say, just to tease and fluster her. He holds back, hiding his temptation with a shrug. “Others I’ve come across.”

He’s piqued her interest, though he’s not sure he meant to. “Tell me about them.”

He takes a deep breath and realizes his vocal cords aren’t up to the task. “Let’s finish with this shrine first. I can share a few at the campfire, tonight.”

She graces him with a bright smile. “Alright, I can wait.”

With that, she flounces off, figuring out the shrine on her own while he dutifully follows behind her. 

Once they finish with the second shrine, the red and orange dusk is already fading into the dark blues and violets of night. Link begins to create a fire while Zelda makes the lean-to and sets up their bedrolls. They settle in by the warmth and the snapping crackles of wood, and Zelda places her chin in her palm, looking at him with expectancy. Link clears his throat at the attention, rummaging around in his pack for meat to begin cooking and giving himself something other to do than be awkward. 

“So,” she says, once she realizes he won’t talk first. “Tell me about your travels and these quirky individuals you encountered.”

He focuses on the food over the fire. “Alright,” he says, mulling around his mind over his journeying. “As you wish.”

It’s a minute or more when he decides on one. 

“In Hateno, there’s a…young man,” he says, almost calling him a boy, though he’s not sure if he can call him a boy when, at least in age minus his years sleeping, Link is around the same age. “He likes to skulk and watch people from his post there. According to him, he likes to take note of anyone he deems suspicious, but I don’t think he’d ever do anything about it if he did see someone suspicious. He tries to act tough.” Link feels a ghost of a smile creep up on his face. “He also has a crush on the girl who worked at the inn, who I found out was the only person he actually _watched.”_

“Oh, I see,” Zelda says, raising a brow. “Did anything happen between them while you were there?”

Link half-shrugs. “I don’t really know. I felt bad because the girl didn’t seem to care much about him, so I felt compelled to help him out. I don’t think it truly did any—“

“Wait,” she cuts in, holding up a hand. “You…helped? As in, played matchmaker?”

She says it with a tone that holds such surprise and astonishment that Link shifts around, not quite embarrassed but getting a bit defensive. To be honest, he felt a strange kind of kinship with the boy. He doesn’t like talking—Link doesn’t care about talking, either. The boy likes to observe—somewhat. It goes without saying that that’s Link’s favorite pastime. He also seemed a bit lost in the realm of women, which Link thinks he more than likely is as well. 

“Well,” he tries and comes up with nothing meaningful. “Kind of.”

She shakes her head, looking at him, no—staring at him, with bemused interest. In the firelight, her green eyes are dark and golden bronze. “Unexpected, Link,” she says, then quickly delves into more questioning before he can wonder what else she means. “What did you help with? Devising a secret rendezvous? Delivering letters to and fro?”

He shakes his head, turning the meat around on the spit. “No, nothing as interesting as that. He asked me to find out what she was most interested in. She told me she loved crickets, of all things. Interestingly enough, he said he loved crickets, too, and that they were ‘meant to be’. After that, I helped him catch some, and then…I don’t know what happened afterwards.” He pauses. “She wanted 100 of them.”

Zelda blinks. “100 crickets? She couldn’t be serious, could she?”

Link contemplates for a second. “Probably not. I got the feeling the guy creeped her out, so she was hoping to discourage him.”

Zelda bites the corner of her lip. “Thinking he would give up and leave her alone...” she shakes her head. “Well, at least you tried.” She seems to be struggling to hold her mirth back, and before a few more moments can pass, she raises a hand to her mouth and lets out what can only be called a snicker. “That poor boy. Utterly clueless.” She then snorts, which makes her laugh harder.

Link smiles at her. It’s a good sound, a genuine and happy one. Out of the memories he had of their journey together, only one of them wasn’t clouded with self-deprecating tones or the weight of her burden perched on her shoulders. It wasn’t nearly enough to give him a sense of who Zelda was outside of what she was supposed to be, and quite suddenly, in this moment, Link can now say he knows that she’s a princess who snorts. 

“If we make our way to Hateno, you can meet them,” he suggests when her laughter dies down.

She nods with vigor. “Yes. That is a lovely idea.” She opens her mouth to speak again but hesitates. It’s a strange look on her, he thinks, as she tends to speak her mind with reckless freedom. He admires it. He’s never been so loose with his thoughts, and he sometimes wishes he could be.

As he takes the meat off the spit and hands her a portion, he ventures, “What is it?”

For whatever reason, she seems surprised by his question. 

“Oh,” she says. “Nothing.”

He waits, eating his dinner with deliberate slowness. One bite, two bites…

“Well, I was thinking…”

He ducks his head to hide his smug smirk. He knew it wouldn’t take her long. “…what?”

“I know you’ve already told me a story about your travels, so I have no reason to ask you again, but...” she shrugs, flicking the bundles of hair over her shoulder. “I was wondering if you would share another one.”

He takes another bite, finishing off his skewer. Still hungry, he pulls out a few apples from his pack.

“Whatever you wish, princess,” he says automatically, taking a bite of one of the apples while he ponders. She watches him with bright expectancy as she waits.

“In Rito Village…” he begins, deciding on one. “There was a couple that was spending their anniversary there.” He looks at her. “I’m not sure if you’ve been there, or spent any time there…”

She nods. “Yes, once when I was younger and with my family on a political trip. I would like to say I’ve visited more, but you went on your own when I was attempting to find my power through prayer.”

“You couldn’t have prayed during the trip?” he asks, frowning at the image of her isolated in the castle, missing out on the majestic views all around Lake Totori. 

She shakes her head. “At the time, it wasn’t feasible for me to go. I also…” she stops, and he sees part of her bottom lip disappear under her teeth. Then she sighs. “I also didn’t like you very much, at that point. I didn’t want to travel with you.”

Her explanation forms that sharp clarity in his mind with the memory that lay there. Revali’s ego, railing to prove himself, his frustration, and the stark, missing component of Zelda. 

He nods, conceding, and finishes the apple. “Maybe you’ll want to go with me this time around.”

She graces him with a smile. “I have a feeling I will.”

He tosses the apple core into the fire. “Good. Since that’s settled, I guess I can tell you the rest of the story.”

So he does. He tells her about the couple, how the wife absolutely hated the climate of the Rito Village, (even though, he insists, it isn’t that cold. They even sell garments in the town for that kind of thing.) and how she was so irate at how miserable it was that all she wanted was baked apples. That was the only thing that could truly relinquish the awful anniversary trip and prove that her husband loved her. And could possibly avoid divorce. 

_“Divorce?”_ Zelda exclaims, snorting again. “Because it was a little cold?”

Link shrugs helplessly. “It seemed so. Nothing a baked apple couldn’t fix, though.”

“Let me guess…” Zelda points a finger at him. “You saved the day and gave her husband a baked apple to give to her?”

He half-smiles. “Close. I gave him flint so he could make the apples.”

“Oh, of course. He had to be the one to put in the actual effort.”

“Right. If I made the apples, the wife would have found out. Then it would have been an obvious settlement for divorce.”

“Obviously,” Zelda agrees sarcastically, humor on her face. “First, you’re a matchmaker, now you’re in the line of saving marriages.”

“How else could I live up to my name?” he says, then he smiles when she chokes out a laugh. 

“It must have been good practice for saving the world.”

“Must have.” 

After their humor has settled down and Zelda finishes her dinner, she says, “I should thank you for this.”

He stops fixing up his bedroll, looking at her over his shoulder. “What?”

“I…” she says, then clears her throat. “I couldn’t have imagined a better two days after…after finally destroying Ganon. I’ve forgotten what it’s like, to be in the world, to feel and learn and to be present. So, I thank you, Link.”

His stomach swells at her words, a reaction he hasn’t felt in…he’s not sure. 

He nods. “Of course…” and he knows it’s now or never. He swallows. “Zelda.”

He’s rewarded with a brilliant smile. It punctures the swell in his stomach and weakens his knees. A good thing he’s already kneeling. 

“Goodnight, Link,” she says.

He lies down in his bedroll, Master Sword across his lap and ready to protect her. He’ll always protect her, he thinks, and that feels as instinctual as knowing the bare bones of his soul. 

“Goodnight,” he whispers.


	3. iii. In which Zora's Domain is full of admirers, waterfalls, and memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments! I'll get to replying soon!

“Would you like to join THE fan club?”

It’s the first question she gets when she enters Zora’s Domain, to which she furrowed her brows and said, “No, I don’t think so, thank you.”

After talking and explaining to King Dorephan who she was and why she came by, who exhibited the warmest welcome towards Link immediately and then towards her after the introductions, gaining permission to check over the diagnostics of Vah Ruta, and having her hand kissed by Prince Sidon himself—along with his winning grin—the second question she receives is,

“Are you SURE you wouldn’t like to join the fan club?”

To be honest, Zelda really thinks about it. After reintroducing herself—though it was unneeded because he remembered who she was from her visits to the Domain when she was younger—she found him charming, upbeat, and infectious. He was genial and social, asking her all about her trials, but only if she would like to talk about them, and commented on how beautiful she was, which made her a little uncomfortable after the third time, but her ingrained manners overpowered all of her internal turmoil.

So, overall, she finds it peculiar that she does, indeed, find Prince Sidon…attractive.

“His amber eyes are to die for,” one of the Zoran ladies fawns. “Don’t you feel as though they cut straight into your soul?”

Zelda immediately thinks of Link at the comment, and her cheeks redden. The Zoran takes it incorrectly and exclaims, “See? She does!”

“She does what?”

Link’s voice sends a jolt of anxiety up Zelda’s spine, and she nearly dies of embarrassment. She just knows that this conversation might be the most unyieldingly painful she’s had in over a century.

“She feels as though Prince Sidon’s eyes stare into her soul,” the Zoran, named Lena, squeals. “I knew it. She needs to join. Even Prince Sidon has a shine to her…which will direct more attention to us.” Her eyes gleam, glazing over as she looks out into the intangible distance of the heavens. “And when he sees me, he’ll know I’m undoubtedly _the one.”_

“Oh, please, Lena, he’ll have no eyes for anyone but me,” another Zoran, Tona, says.

“Dream on. We both know he loves broader, fuller fins, like mine.”

“Yes, but he loves long, swooping tails like mine.”

Link taps her arm and Zelda turns her grateful attention to him, following him away from the women.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” he tells her, leaning in close so as not to be overheard. “The fan club gets a bit obsessive.”

She side glances back to the two arguing Zorans. “You can say that again.” When she looks back to him, he’s staring at her with a strange, knowing look in his eye. _They cut straight to the soul._ It makes her nervous—but a good nervous. The kind of nervous that gives her those flutters that run from her stomach to her throat. “What?” she asks, and it comes out as a whisper.

He shakes his head. “You can join the fan club. You’d be in good company.”

She gives him a dubious stare. “I don’t know about that…”

The half-smile he makes distracts her. It’s mischievous and sly, and there’s a perfect dimple that forms just above where his lips end, and she can’t for the life of her remember if she’s ever noticed it before.

“I’m in it.”

It takes her a moment to register the meaning of his words. When she does, her eyes dart up to his.

“What?”

He merely shrugs. “Sidon is a good guy. I’m his friend. It would be wrong if I wasn’t in it.”

She opens her mouth, gapes like a fish, then closes it. Spluttering, she says, “Well, that’s…great. Honorable, even. But I don’t know him well enough to be so dedicated.”

“Even though his ‘amber eyes are to die for’?”

Zelda shoves his shoulder, chuckling. “Sure, he has pretty eyes, and he’s pretty for a Zoran, but that’s nothing compared to…ah, other Hylians.”

He lifts his brows at her, and she can tell he’s knee-deep in suspicion. She feigns nonchalance, plastering an innocent smile on her face.

“Alright, princess,” he relents, and she holds back a sigh of relief. “While you decide on what you think of Prince Sidon, would you like to explore the Ne’ez Yohma shrine underneath the King’s throne room?”

Her insides beam at the suggestion. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Link ends up talking her through this shrine, as the main components are missing and the challenge is completely gone. She does get to practice the Cryonis rune, and she has a tremendous time creating the blocks underneath her feet. Every time she raises herself up, a small, excited squeak escapes her, and once she’s settled at the top she feels a continuous triumphant wave that she’s kept her balance and didn’t end up falling off the sides.

It isn’t easy to tell—probably because she’s so distracted by the rune—but Link breaks his steadfast stoicism each time she makes an ice block. At first, she doesn’t notice. The few times she wobbles, he somehow clambers his way up onto the ice block and places a hand on her back to steady her. The planes of his face became a bit tighter than usual, his eyes hard and without their light sheen of calm or tranquility. It took her longer than it should have to realize she made them that way.

“Link,” she admonishes him on the third time he appears at her side. “I’m not going to fall, I’m fine. You didn’t do this at the last shrine, you don’t have to do it now.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks at her words. He stares at her firmly, but he takes a step away from her. Swallowing back whatever he is going to say, because she can almost physically see a jumble of letters fall back down his throat, he intones, “As you wish, princess.”

That almost annoys her as much as him being right at her side every time her foot wobbles. He jumps off the side of the ice, and she sighs.

“I’ll catch you when you fall,” he calls up to her.

She peaks over her shoulder at him in a gentle glare. “I’m not going to fall.”

“We’ll see.”

“Don’t you have any faith in me, hero?”

“You, yes,” he says. “Not your ankles.”

That coaxes a laugh out of her. “Fair enough.”

After they finish within the shrine, the midafternoon light winks off the different shades of blue along the railings and bridges. When they had first arrived, the glassy, pristine construct of the place was dainty and sharp, appealing and aesthetic. There were as many curves as there were rigid lines, and Zelda fell in love with the design immediately. Everything was fashioned with a thoughtful eye and focused precision, and the last time she had seen this place she did not see it as she does now. The beauty of the crystal waters hugging the bottom of the landing, the cliffs above and surrounding them, even the balustrades of the bridges. How long did it take the Zoran ancestors to build this place, she wonders?

Inspired by all of these intricacies, Zelda is compelled to speak them out loud.

“This is such a beautiful place,” she says, eyeing the cliff faces, and then placing a palm on the balcony railing once they come up onto the middle landing. Her eyes follow the rocks down to the various waterfalls ending in sprays of mist and foam. “I can see how you spent summers here, when you were younger. You told me that,” she says, glancing to him. He’s a bit behind her, to her left. “I wish I could tell you stories about your time here. I am sure Prince Sidon could mention a thing or two, if you felt so inclined to ask.”

“I’ve…thought of it,” he says, and she sees his gaze drift to Mipha’s statue in the center of the landing.

 _Mipha,_ she thinks. A great princess and a wonderful champion, Mipha was kind-hearted, compassionate, and whom Zelda admired and considered a best friend. She didn't have many, as time didn't allot for that type of luxury, but she was blessed to have her for the limited amount of time that she did.

She was also able to grieve. It was a different type of grieving than most individuals are used to, certainly. Being consumed by Ganon, tethered to the castle with Hylia's own power and spirit, Zelda had the vision of a goddess and creator. She could see her world, Hylia's world, in a way unknown to anyone but a goddess. She could hear the heartbeat of the earth, the dirt, linger with the spirits of the animals and insects, see magic as a tangible, colorful object, circling among forests, valleys, and mountains alike. 

She could feel the presence of her friends' spirits, and they could calm and soothe and excite and anger. They could communicate with these bursts of emotion, and a sparse amount of words if their energy allowed. Because of this, words did not happen often, but they were the assurance she needed when she would feel the grip of fatigue. Thinking of when Link would wake was also a form of energy on its own.

Now, when Zelda looks upon the statue of Mipha, she does not feel grief or sadness. She feels a profound peace, strength, and a fountain of love. They cascade through her veins like the waterfalls surrounding the Domain, and she smiles up at her.

She knows for Link it must be vastly different. A complete reversal of emotions. She opens her mouth with hesitation, unsure if she should break whatever line of thought he has. She tries to decipher the contours of his face, whether he is disheartened, melancholy, or simply contemplative and lost in a thought or memory. 

He surprises her by breaking the silence first. "The first time I came here, it was...a little overwhelming. I remember things now, of course. I have recollections of Sidon, trying to beat him swimming up the river. Bazz and Ledo are there, too, goofing off, trying to one up each other. Mipha..." he trails. "She was...a close friend. Always healing my wounds and scrapes. I loved her, as any friend loves another friend. I'm just...I'm not sure..." he struggles with finishing the thought, and his mouth twists in a scowl of obvious frustration. 

She comes to stand beside him, placing a hand on his forearm. 

"I...wouldn't be able to tell you much," she starts, a small bubble of nerves popping in her stomach. She must be careful with her words. She can't tell him much without giving herself away. 

"What I can tell you is that she loved you very much, in the capacity of friendship but also... romantically."

Link takes his gaze off the statue, and he glances at her. He doesn't say a word, his face passive and unperturbed, so she continues.

"I'm... not sure how your feelings were towards her. At least," she hurriedly corrects, "how evolved they were. You spent a lot of time with me, so I can only speak to what I saw of you then. And we didn't necessarily speak about those kinds of feelings often."

He gives a slow nod, and surprisingly his lips turn up in a wry smirk. "I didn't think we would have."

She blinks at him and his answer, puzzled. He turns back to the statue. She doesn't hear him sigh, but his chest heaves with a deep inhale. 

"It has…taken me a while, to get used to the rush of emotion I get from every memory that comes back to me. It’s…almost as if it’s happening to another person, and I’m looking in from the outside.”

She frowns at his words. That he’s confiding in her so much is a good sign. The subject matter, however, makes it hard for her to know the best words to say. And what if she says the _wrong_ thing?

It takes her a moment to collect her thoughts and decide on the words to say. She clears her throat. “Like with anything, it’ll take…time. Time seems to be a crutch for everything lately.” She feels her lips curl a bit in distaste.

“You were patient with me for so long,” he says. “I should take a lesson from you and try my hand at…patience.” He doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about the prospect.

“You know what they say. Patience is a virtue.”

He grunts. “I don’t know about it being a virtue, but it does make some things easier to handle.” He shakes his head. “I’ve just never had enough of it.”

“You were always so quick to kill things.”

“As far as I can recall, you only called me reckless once.”

“Yes, as far as _you_ can recall. Weren’t we just talking about how much your memory is lacking?”

Her quip comes out of her without thinking. She bites the inside of her lip, regretting her words immediately, until she notices that he doesn’t seem angry at all. In fact, his lingering scowl becomes more than a little mischievous, and he crosses his arms in a defiant stance.

“Alright, princess, why don’t we put your words to the test? I’ll do something reckless, and we’ll see if it triggers any memories of you nagging about it.”

She gets a little ruffled at the word nagging, but…he isn’t wrong about it. She used to do it all the time. She squints at him and puts on her most authoritative voice. “Fine, hero. But nothing crazy. I forbid it.”

He shrugs, and it almost irks her with how nonchalant he’s being. “Nothing crazy,” he confirms. He glances around them, his eyes tracing every detail of the bridges and the platforms. He begins walking toward the railing off to the side.

“How about…” he trails before his eyes alight on something. “How about jumping off a waterfall?”

The suggestion jars her. “A waterfall?”

“Yeah,” he says, and she can hear the lightness in his tone. “Diving is hardly reckless, but if we travel up to Ploymous Mountain,” he says, pointing toward the northwest. “Then I could take on the Lynel that roams up there, if it’s still up there, without any armor.”

Her stomach clenches at the word, imagining the fangs that came so close to slicing his neck off time after time—even though he’d beg to differ every single time she mentioned it or examined him for cuts and bruises.

“Okay, fine, fine,” she relents, sighing. “So which one?” She glances around, deliberately avoiding any in the far off distance. “The one by that Zora over there?”

She points towards a Zoran named Gruve, who seems to be in a state of perpetual adoration with the waterfall that cascades below.

He gives her a pointed look, which he backs up with silence. She deflates, but she was expecting it. It’s Link after all. He’ll probably pick the tallest waterfall without blinking. She glances around, eyeing the tallest ones.

“Lead away, then,” she says. “I’m at your reckless mercy.”

He blesses her with an indulgent smile. It’s close-lipped, but it fills his face, and it’s pathetic—absolutely _**PATHETIC**_ , the word being bolded, italicized, and even capitalized in her mind’s eye—that she’d say yes to anything he said if he gave her that look all the time.

 

* * *

 

He is insane. Insane.

She can’t look down from the tip of the waterfall near Toto Lake. Her stomach is in her throat, and she’ll spew her lunch if she attempts to gauge the hundreds (of thousands) of feet it’ll take to reach the bottom.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” She pauses. “Actually I can, but if we’re honest, this probably won’t do anything for your memory. In fact, it’ll probably hinder it even more with the force of impact that your brain is going to endure. That’s not even considering if you smash into the bottom of the lake at the end, and—“

“Princess,” he says, coming up behind her. He places a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing to comfort her. “Relax. I’ve done this countless times.”

_Countless times. “Why?”_

At the simple question, she’s shocked to find that his face begins to break out into an enigmatic smile. His eyes are bright, exquisitely alive, and his energy thrums. It pushes into her like a radiating force, and she can nearly feel it—as if he’s shaking her shoulders, knocking nonsense into her.

“It feeds the soul,” he says, and the words fall into her ear in an effortless downpour, soaking into her mind like rain.

She turns to face him fully. He’s completely outfitted in his Zoran gear. It amuses her that it almost transforms him into a Zora, the hood concealing his forehead and shadowing his eyes. The shade of blue makes his eyes beam like lasers, and the outfit is constructed specifically for aerodynamic purposes, utilizing the scaled, fish skin fabric to the utmost ability, but it also… well, it’s not meant to hide anything at any rate.

Zelda feels herself blushing at all of it. Her nausea, Link’s energy, the way he looks. Why in Hylia’s name did she humor him with this whole idea?

She averts her eyes. “Okay. Just tell me you won’t break your neck.”

“I haven’t so far,” he says, his eyes burning. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

She laughs, verging on hysterical. “Oh, that’s wonderful to know, since you’re about to jump from a thousand feet!”

He stares at her, and stares, and stares, his eyes widening a fraction, and his face abruptly goes slack. His stare glazes over, and for a moment, he’s somewhere else. Far away, in another time.

“You’re right,” he says, softly, once his eyes come back to the present. His voice sounds suddenly and oddly affectionate. “You’ve complained about my antics a million times.”

Recognition floods through Zelda, and her eyes mimic Link’s, widening with surprise and excitement. “You remember?”

He nods, his face still softened and his eyes calmed from their earlier passionate intensity. “A handful of moments. Mostly of you reprimanding me for not thinking things through…even though I had.”

Zelda’s so thrilled that she can’t even rebuke his statement. She laughs as her enthusiasm bubbles over, and she goes forward to hug him. “I can’t believe it! This actually worked! And you didn’t even have to actually _jump!"_

At this, his softened demeanor begins to transform back to the mischievous, beguiling sharpness he had minutes before.

“The memories are great,” he says. “It doesn’t mean I’m not going to jump.”

Her mouth drops open, and she pushes him. “Link!”

“I told you before,” he says. “I like this.”

She crosses her arms, digging her nails into her forearms while she bites her lip. He swings his arms around and bends his knees into a running stance.

“Don’t worry,” he says, and his voice is nothing but ready. “Just watch. I’ll be right back.”

“If you think I’m going to watch—“ she blusters, but he’s already running to the edge of the waterfall. Her sentence ends in a shriek-like jumble, and as Link pushes off of the edge, Zelda gazes on with wide-eyed fear, completely forgetting about how she wasn’t going to watch.

Link is suspended feet from the line of the falls, and it almost seems as time slows to a standstill. Then he curls into a perfect, streamlined dive, hands pointed in front of him like an arrow cutting through the wind. Then, suddenly, his body is swallowed up by the dark blue of the water. The splash he makes when he slips into it is nonexistent.

Zelda has all but forgotten her nausea from the height, hands gripping the cliff edge and her head hanging off the side. When Link breaks through the surface, she can’t tell what his facial features are showing, but she’s almost certain he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“See!” he shouts up at her, waving his arms. “I told you!”

“You’re still crazy!” she yells back.

“You should try it!”

“What?”

“Try it!”

She shakes her head at the audacity of the statement, saying in a normal voice to herself, “Maybe he gave himself a concussion.”

He gestures that he’ll come back up, and she doesn’t realize he means he’ll _swim_ back up the waterfall. Once he reaches the top, he rockets out of the water like a salmon. He somehow makes every single movement graceful and smooth and deliberate. He lands beside her, taking off his headpiece and folding his wet bangs out of his face, face flush with exertion.

She gestures to the falls. “How did you swim up?”

“This suit. It makes you swim much better.”

“Oh. Interesting,” she says, looking at the fabric closely and then—oh, goddess, _look away, look away._ “Well, you’ve proven that you haven’t changed even a little bit since the hundred year sleep, so—“

“Try it,” he interrupts, arms splayed wide in emphasis. “You’d love it. And you can wear my suit. It streamlines you.”

She only stares at him, waiting for the joke to be over. When he continues looking at her expectantly, she says, “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head violently, and she wonders again about the concussion possibility. But his eyes are the same size, and all of his limbs seem to be fully functioning.

“No, really.” He begins to take off the top portion of his suit, and she squeaks.

“Link, you really don’t—“

“I do,” he says. Topless, wet, and gleaming in the sunlight, Link hands her half of his Zoran suit. Zelda thinks she might have a heart attack. _Pathetic._

“Maybe,” she stutters. “Maybe I can start with something not so daunting. Like…like the waterfalls that are a part of the Domain. You know…because I don’t think I can do this one.”

Link’s eyes start to take on a more normal, less insane, shine. It’s as if his adrenaline rush after jumping is beginning to wear off, and his sense is coming back to him. Instead of holding out the suit to her, he brings it back to his chest.

“Ah, yes,” he says, nodding. “Yes, you’re right.”

She lets out a breath. “I am right.”

He rubs the back of his head in a sheepish gesture, wincing a bit. “Uh, I apologize.”

She smiles at this. “No need. I’m just glad you didn’t lose _all_ of your sense.”

 

* * *

 

After Zelda makes good on her suggestion (which Link took and ran with, making sure to have her experience the ‘beauty that is diving’ as Gruve repeated ad nauseum), she can see why Link loves the exhilaration so much. She felt it, too, even the measly ten to twenty feet the dive was that she attempted. It was fun, and she enjoyed it, though she was loathe to say it at first, as Link had this absurdly smug look on his face when she landed her first dive and she forgot to act cool and passive about it. She took a few tries before really nailing the technique, after Link gave her tips and demonstrations of how to fold into the dive and the water.

She didn’t, unfortunately or fortunately—she wasn’t sure which it would be—wear his Zoran armor. It seemed preposterous at the time to take it and wear it, though she couldn’t place a finger on why it would besides the sole reason that it was his.

It’s not until they’re spent, exhausted, fed, and still slightly damp, soaking in the warmth from the secured fire pit in their hotel space, when Zelda asks, “How did you come upon your Zoran armor, Link? I don’t think I’ve seen one quite like that for Hylians before.”

Link stares with a deep intensity into the fire, and it’s a while before he answers.

“I…uh,” he says, scratching his chin. “It’s a gift, from Mipha.”

“Oh,” she says, not trying to hide her surprise. “She…left it behind for you?”

He nods. “In Zoran culture, the females, ah, stitch together armor for their…betrothed.”

Zelda tries to keep her face passive, though she knows the astonishment is showing like a light beam. “Oh, I…see. Like an engagement ring for Hylians?”

“So far as I know, yes,” he says, and she’s grateful he doesn’t look at her. “I don’t have any memories of her mentioning…or asking…”

Zelda shakes her head, smiling sadly. “No. I’m afraid Mipha kept this all to herself. She did not confide in me about this. Maybe she was going to ask you after we had triumphed over the Calamity.”

Link absorbs this, continuing to watch the flames flicker. “Knowing that she didn’t tell anyone…that helps a lot. Thank you,” he says, finally glancing her way. “I haven’t been sure what to think about the situation. I didn’t remember the engagement—if there had been an engagement—and if I had known about the suit beforehand and had lost it. It would have been such an important memory…and I couldn’t bear to think that I had failed her, again, with something so delicate.”

His gaze is forlorn, and she can see the hint of how lost he must have felt when trying to track down the very few memories of who he was, left behind in the Sheikah Slate.

Mipha never disclosed her feelings, but she was quite obvious about them. Zelda could see it all the time when they were together. Link, in all his superiority in everything physically inclined, was clever regarding relationships exempting his own. He would never have known unless she told him. There had been instances when Mipha and Link were alone, and Zelda didn’t know what their conversations held or what transpired, but Mipha had not wanted to be a distraction. Confessing would have muddied waters, and Mipha was nothing if not clear, concise, and smart.

Link had memories of the most significant moments among their group of champions and herself to give him a broad enough idea of how they each connected to each other. His memory of Mipha was the closest Mipha had ever gotten to telling Link that she loved him.

Zelda had regretted, for a time, when she was chained in the Sanctum, not letting Link know of her own feelings. Now, she’s not sure if she still does. Would it have been better or worse? Getting to relearn each other is a blessing, and had it been overshadowed by a memory of Zelda’s confession, she’s not sure if it would be quite so easy between them. Then again, perhaps it would have made everything easier to overcome, especially if he reciprocated the feelings.

In the past, it was a giant leap of faith that Zelda did not have the courage to take. Yes, she could take on Calamity Ganon and fight for the lives of the people who mattered most to her, but she had to be pushed a dozen times before she dove from the shortest waterfall in the Domain. They were two entirely different brands of courage. One, jumping with no power for protection and steeped with vulnerability, and the other having the means to fight and plan and battle. So, no, she wouldn’t have told him in the past even if she had known what the circumstances would be in the future.

Someday in this second life they have, perhaps she’ll tell him. But right now, she’s enjoying their time together too much to ruin it.

“No, Link,” she says, encouraged by her well of thoughts. “You would have remembered. You didn’t fail her in any way. Trust me.”

He glances up to her and stares, looking at her with enough intensity to make her think he can hear all of her thoughts. It’s quite disconcerting, to say the least.

“Okay,” he says, after a long period of silence. “I trust you.”

She smiles at him, the uncomfortable feeling vanishing. Then she looks back towards the fire, lulled into a trance by the flickering and blending colors of the flames. The trance is broken when Link begins to speak.

“There’s a Rito who lives in the Rito Village…” he says thoughtfully. “He’s a master of songs. There’s one song in particular that I think you’d be interested in hearing.”

“Oh, really?” she asks, her curiosity perked. “I love music. What’s it about?”

Link only shakes his head. “You’d have to listen to it. I couldn’t do it justice. But when we go, you’ll have to tell me what you think of it.”

Zelda nods slowly, feeling the creep of suspicion. There’s something about this request, and how Link told her—but she can’t place a finger on it, just like she couldn’t place it about his Zoran armor. “Okay, then,” she answers. “I look forward to it.”

He smiles, and she swears it’s concealing some kind of secret.

“Good. Me, too.”

She tries to decipher his smile, though she doesn’t even know the first thing she might be deciphering. Sighing, she goes back to staring at the fire, eyes beginning to wane towards sleep.

Only time will tell, she supposes, like it always does.


	4. iv. In which Link relates stories and introduces Tarrey Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments/encouragement/ideas! I know this chapter took forever to be posted, but I'll try to be more timely with my updates. Thank you to those for the idea for Tarrey Town. I hope you enjoy!

They stay in Zora’s Domain for another two days. They spend them traversing the lakes and mountains, all the while Zelda asks questions and comments about the vegetation or the scenery, and Link responds by telling her stories.

 

He tells her about the Bank of Wishes, and Finley, the sweet, young Zoran who fell in love from afar and asked him to find The One at the end of the river. Zelda exclaimed at this again, poking Link in the shoulder and deeming him Hyrule’s biggest sucker for a happy ending. He blushed at this a little, rolling his eyes at her dramatic insistence of the softness of his character.  

 

He told her of Ploymous Mountain, and how he needed to obtain shock arrows from the Lynel making his territory there, with which he and Sidon used to calm down the riled-up Vah Ruta. He tells her of finding Fronk’s wife, who ended up not being washed away, but losing track of time catching fish. All the while, they walk with each other, rediscovering the secret, shadowed corners of the outlying cliffs of the Domain. This is how they stumble across a Zora Monument, quite on accident, it’s blue sheen brightening the grass into a seafoam green. By the way Zelda’s eyes lit up when she sees it, Link can do nothing but enlighten her to each of the monuments and the history. At the beginning, Link tells her that they can read them out of order, since he doesn’t think it makes much of a difference either way—but Zelda is staunch in her stance that reading them in order is the only way. And Link can say nothing to refute what she wants.

 

Once they arrive at the third monument, which describes how the tradition of crafting a husband’s armor was born, Zelda asks him something he’s never considered before.

 

“Do you think…” she says, her hand still on the monument tracing the letters, as she’s done to each monument so far. Link wonders what her fingers feel, digging into the cracks of the individual letters. Can she feel the spirit of the words, can she hear the voice of the man who punctured the rock with them?

 

They are funny, strange thoughts he’s having, and he’s been having them whenever he looks at her. Briefly at first, and then more and more. She’s always seemed so magical to him—a natural feeling he’s felt, he knows, even in the time before his sleep. So, he wonders if it’s his own spirit trying to reconvene with the past. The memories of her nagging him before were such a tease, the barest taste of something overwhelmingly sweet. It was like a curtain hiding so many other nougats of his life behind it, and it’s just as frustrating as it’s always been but now, being so close to them and to Zelda, it’s becoming an increasing torment.

 

“Do you think,” she says again, tone contemplative. “Mipha had sewn one of her own scales into your armor as well?”

 

At the end of her question, she looks over her shoulder to him. It is an open, plain question, and her face is inquisitive and calm, merely questioning. It’s something that hadn’t crossed his mind, Mipha leaving a physical part of herself in the armor. He feels guilty again, and he frowns, and when he looks at Zelda looking at him, it is almost as if he can feel her hand slip between his ribcage and cradle his heart in her fist.

 

“Uh,” he breathes, losing his breath for a second. He rubs at his chest, willing the sensation to disappear. “I…don’t know. It’s quite possible.”

 

She turns away from him, looking over the words again. “Hm…I’m sure she did. Perhaps later, we can find it. If you’d like,” she adds, finishing with the words and glancing over to him.

 

He nods.

 

“Especially since it’s written in history. Mipha would have followed this as purely as she did anything else. And,” she continues, shrugging a little—and Zelda is not bashful from how Link has perceived her—but it does seem to be a bashful action, in the tiniest way. She turns her eyes to the ground, hands clasped behind her back. “I would have added one. Well, not a scale since I don’t have any, but…something. Maybe a strand of hair, or a royal jewel. To protect y—somebody I loved, I would have put whatever I could.”

 

He nods again. “Of course, princess.”

 

She sighs, frowning, and she’s frustrated. He knows because her left eyebrow ticks enough to make a fold in her skin right above her eye. Link blinks, wondering for a brief moment how he could know that—until he realizes it’s from all the memories of her scolding him. He smiles at that.

 

“Come on,” he says, cocking his head back toward the direction of Ruto Mountain. “We’ve got seven others to go read.”

 

* * *

 

By the time they make their way to all of the monuments, the day is fading quickly into the late afternoon.

 

Zelda had made interested or contemplative noises at each one, then accompanied the noise with either a statement or a question (or the one exception, which was the ninth, reading about Sidon’s heroic escape from the giant octorok. She exclaimed, then asked, “Do you think this is exaggerated?” To which Link replied with an honest shrug and said, “I’m sure he could have grinned his way out of it, regardless.” Zelda laughed at that).

 

 After this tenth one, she sighs and says, “It’s a shame there is only ten of these. A good amount, of course, but with such a rich history it seems to be…lacking. I wish we could look back in time, to the beginning, watch as the first Zorans began to build with the ore of the region…”

 

Her words strike an idea within Link’s mind like lightning, though it is much less painful and much more promising.

 

“I have to show you something,” he says, and once she turns around to him, he begins to move in the direction of Toto Lake. “It’s a bit of a climb from here, but I think you’ll like it.”

 

She beams, and it is amazing at how easy it is for her to follow him. She’s at his back in an instant. “As long as you’re not going to try to make me dive from that waterfall again.”

 

Once they make it to the edge of Toto Lake, facing the north instead of the waterfall to the south, Zelda waits, looking around as if the thing he’s going to show her will pop out of the ground. Link grins, pulling out the Sheikah Slate and bringing it to his face, zooming in on the town in the distance.

 

“Alright,” he says, bringing the Slate down. He hands it to her. “Look through the scope in that direction,” he points. She does as she’s told.

 

“Okay,” she says. “Now what?”

 

“Do you see that town, surrounded by the lake? To the left of the shrine?”

 

“Um…oh! Yes, I see it. That’s…that’s the town of…um…” Link watches as her mouth twists into a pensive frown. “I…guess I don’t know that town.”

 

“I’d be impressed if you _did_ know that town,” he says, and she brings the Slate down from her face, looking at him in puzzlement.

 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she says. “It has been a hundred years. New settlements arising is a natural progressive process for Hyrule.”

 

He nods. “Sure. But that settlement is quite new. It’s called Tarrey Town. It hasn’t been long since they’ve started up. Probably six months or so.” He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her reaction.

 

She blinks at him, then looks through the Slate again. “Wow, that’s very recent. I wonder why—“ she abruptly stops her sentence, glancing to him with a sudden glint of knowing in her eye. “You have a story to tell me about that place, don’t you?”

 

“Now you’re catching on,” he says, giving her a light smirk. “I know Tarrey Town’s full history. Would you like to visit?”

 

“Yes, of course!” she says, smiling.  

 

They decide to leave the next morning, saying goodbye to Sidon and King Dorephan, along with the rest of the Zorans who have gathered around in the wake of their departure. The King thanks them one last time, nodding in an abridged bow, and Zelda and Link copy him.

 

“Be safe in your travels, Princess…Hero,” he says, looking at both with a lightness in his eyes. “You have both saved us all, and we will be here whenever you need us. Mipha would have agreed to that, and honoring her is the privilege I have.”

 

“I appreciate that, You Majesty, more than I can dare say,” Zelda says, lifting out of her bow. “We shall carry Mipha in our hearts, wherever we go, and I believe we’ll always have that in common.”

 

Prince Sidon also gives them a farewell, though it is not nearly as graceful as his father’s. He comes up to them, strangling Link into a hug, and bowing so deeply to Zelda that his forehead is an inch from the ground. He then kisses her hand for thirty seconds, and Zelda holds a frozen smile through the whole thing. Link is both proud of her holding her patience…and oddly irritated.

 

By the time they’re off, Link leads them back up to Toto Lake. Zelda questions him at the beginning, then sighs and gives up, muttering that she is not going to climb all the way down the cliff into Akkala, because that is preposterous and _reckless._

 

Link smiles at her on occasion, and he keeps silent throughout her rantings, which makes her huff all the more.

 

“Alright,” he says, placing his hands on his hips as he looks over the gulf of land before them. The trees are bright red and orange, the breezes ruffling through them, the water a rich, deep cerulean—as beautiful as ever—and Link grins. “We’re going to glide down into Akkala. Are you ready?”

 

It’s silent for a beat. “Glide?” she asks. It isn’t trepidation in her voice—but it is skeptical.

 

He turns to her. “Yes. It’s much faster, and it’s nowhere near as taxing as climbing.”

 

She frowns. “Won’t your paraglider give out with my added weight?”

 

He blinks at her, nearly laughing. “Of course not. You don’t weigh much more than me, Princess.”

 

Her mouth opens slack, before she reacts like he anticipates. She flushes a little, then exclaims, “More than you? I do not!”

 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m just teasing you. Now, come on. If we leave now, we’ll make great time.”

 

He turns his back towards her again, and he kneels down, taking out and placing his paraglider beside him. “Climb on, you’ll piggyback. That way you can hold onto me while I hold on to the paraglider.”

 

“Um…” he hears, and her footsteps shuffle closer to him. “Okay…only if you’re confident in this…”

 

“I’d never put you in any danger, Princess,” he says, and he means it. He glances at her over his shoulder. “You might even enjoy it. It’s like…slow motion diving.”

 

She wrings her hands for a second, then she breathes out an audible breath. “Alright, hero. I’ll just…”

 

She places her palms on his shoulders with the lightest touch, the barest amount of pressure. He puts his arms out, and she brings her feet closer before straddling him and placing her legs in the space he leaves her between his body and his arms. Then she folds and presses her body against his back, and he’s…

 

He’s surprised, but he has no reason to be. _She’s warm_. It’s the first thought he has. _And soft._ Then he rolls his eyes at himself. It’s not as if she was going to be cold and stiff like a board. She has…curves. She’s a lady. He needs to get a grip.

 

He goes to stand, and she wraps her arms over his shoulder, clasping her hands below his neck.

 

“Is this okay?” she asks, her breath falling into his ear. Her chin touches his shoulder, and her lips must be very close to his neck.

 

“Yeah,” he answers, hardly breathing. “That’s fine.”

 

_Get. A. Grip._ His mind demands it, but he's still halfway standing, and then she crosses her ankles across his torso. It's then. Then he realizes.

 

This might be the best, or worst, idea he's ever had.

 

"Okay," she says, her jaw moving against his skin. "I think I'm ready."

 

He wonders, at that moment, about Kass' song, and how true it may be. Was it passed down, was it exaggerated? Was it garbled by the romantics over the years?

 

He's unsure about how his feelings are concerned, but he knows right now that he wouldn't be surprised if he had been in love with her. And is still in love, even if he hasn't uncovered it yet.

 

Not just because she's wrapped up around him and radiating warmth (but he admits it does help). But because she's Zelda.

 

"Link?" she inquires, her voice soft. "Are you okay?"

 

He shakes out of his stupor, and blinks away the haze of feeling. He says, "Yes. Yeah. Hang on tight, alright?"

 

He stands fully, and she shifts to get a better holding. Taking the paraglider in his hand, he jogs to the edge of the cliff, leaps—

 

He can almost feel the scream run through him from her body into his. It's vibration, and she presses her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. 

 

He flips the paraglider above them and they snap up with the air. Her head remains stuck against him, so he bumps her with his shoulder. 

 

"Zelda, look," he says. "You're missing it!"

 

The weight of her head shifts little by little until he eventually hears her gasp. Her body grips his tighter.

 

“It is certainly beautiful,” she says. The wind whips past his ears, carrying her words off, but she’s close enough for him to hear. “There are so many things to look at up here!”

 

“Yes,” he says. “You can nearly see all of Akkala.”

 

Her head nods against him vigorously. “I see the Torin Wetlands…and the Akkala Citadel! And even the Rist Peninsula. I always thought that was such a peculiar land mass.”

 

“We can visit that, too,” Link says. “There’s not much to it. Mostly shallow waters and some moblins, if they’re still there.”

 

“I’m interested to see it,” she answers. “I’ve read about it and seen it on the maps, but I’ve never been there.”

 

“Then that means we’ll go there,” he says. She squeezes him, and he’s not sure if it’s from excitement or if it’s a hug.

 

“We’ll stop at the cliff with the shrine for a little while,” he tells her moments later. “Then we can either continue and make it to Tarrey Town in good time, or we can take the path on foot. It’s up to you.”

 

Once they land, Link rests for a minute and eats some fruit and dried meats. Ready to go again, he dusts his hands off and asks, “So which way would you like to go?”

 

She’s looking at the Sheikah Slate when he asks and seems to be startled at the question. “You’re…ready to go? Already?”

 

He shrugs slightly. “Yes... I rested, ate, and now I’m ready when you are.”

 

She is always surprised, no matter how many times this occurs, at the regeneration of his stamina. He thinks it might be from his impatience in some form or other—he wants to be ready to go as soon as possible, so he is. It’s a simple process.

 

“Um…” she says, putting the Slate down and eyeing the two paths before them. “I guess…I guess we can fly again, if you’re up to it.”

 

She smiles at him, waiting for his confirmation, and he thinks for a split second that she chose to fly because she knows how much he enjoys it. He shoots the thought down as quickly as it comes. _No,_ he thinks. _That’s impossible._

 

He nods, kneels dutifully before her, and she climbs on. (Din almighty, he’ll probably never get used to it). Then he jogs, takes the leap, and they are off once more.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tarrey Town,” he begins, after landing them before the entrance. He decided against landing in the middle of the town, as it seemed improper to dump Zelda right there in a place she didn’t know. “It all started with the Bolson Construction Company…”

 

He tells her of meeting Hudson in Hateno Village, where he became aware of a house they were going to demolish. Interested in the whole ordeal, the house and the idea of a construction company, Link offered to buy the house targeted for demolition.

 

Zelda stops him immediately. “Link, you own a _house?”_

 

“Yeah,” he pauses. “It’s not much…I haven’t spent any time there.”

 

“It’s still a home,” she says, a brightness in her eye. “I never considered it, before.”

 

“It was a whim. I…didn’t want to see something demolished that didn’t need to be.”

 

She looks at him, deciphering him. “That…sounds like you, Link,” she says after a moment. “And I mean that in a good way. You’ve always been one to help, to be proactive and solve problems.”

 

He shifts, having no reply.

 

“That you have a place of your own to go after…well, after this, is a great comfort. I’m happy you have somewhere that is home.” She pushes a chunk of hair behind her ear, and she glances toward the ground away from him.

 

It’s a strange notion. Link hasn’t thought of the Hateno household as a home before now. Probably because his mind had mostly been preoccupied with saving Zelda and Hyrule and figuring out who he was through the process.

 

He’s also not thought about when…this…will end. Trekking across Hyrule with Princess Zelda, providing protection for the journey to Vah Ruta and now, perhaps, providing entertainment and relegating experiences. With showing her these new things, he’s not sure when he decided— _if_ he decided—he would take the reins to do it. But it’s been enjoyable so far, and if he’s utterly truthful, he hopes this continues for a long time.

 

“Well,” he says, after a few minutes of thought. “Once we make it to Hateno, you’ll be able to see it. You’re welcome to stay there anytime.”

 

“I appreciate that, Link,” she says, bowing her head gracefully. “Thank you. But that will be sometime in the future. For now, I insist on you continuing your story of Tarrey Town.”

 

“Right,” he says, and he realizes that she’s uncomfortable. He’s missed the cueing—her hands wringing together, her eyes glancing towards the grass surrounding her, and the smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. He thinks, for a moment, that it could be the thought of them ending their journey, as he also felt an oddly discomforting sensation when thinking about it. Then the word _home_ rings into his mind, and it dawns on him that she does not have the blessing of naming any one place her home. Hyrule Castle is vacant and destroyed, bereft of any life, and while they’re nomads in the present state, where might she go after this? Perhaps once she sees Impa—she was a very close friend. She’s wise in the ways of things, and she’ll more than likely have some idea of the next step.

 

Encouraged by his line of thought, Link continues.

 

“After buying the house,” he says, “Hudson decided to head to Akkala to cultivate land and create homes. Bolson, the owner, steered me in the direction of Hudson and Akkala once he finished fixing up my Hateno house. I became curious, so I went.

 

“Once I arrived, there were only a few houses and Hudson working by himself. He asked me—or I asked him—if I could help him out. It seemed like an awful lot to take on alone. In the end, I found him a Goron who worked in the Southern mines of Eldin to help clear out the boulders, a Ruto who had experience with running a general store, a Gerudo who was good at sewing and mending clothing, and, by the end, someone who could officiate a marriage…all with the stipulation that their names ended in ‘-son’, since that was in the Bolson Construction Company contract.”

 

Zelda’s eyebrows raise until they hit the line of hair along her forehead. “Their names had to end in ‘-son’? Why?”

 

Link shrugs. “For whatever reason, Hudson was adamant about keeping to the contract. At first, it was for the people who would help him build the town from the ground up, to keep the validity of the contract. But then, it kind of took over all parts of his life.”

 

“He seems a little obsessed.”

 

A smile begins to creep up on Link’s face. “It gets better. The Gerudo I found who took care of the clothing—her and Hudson were the ones who got engaged to be married. And then, in his vows, Hudson stated that their children’s names would end in ‘-son’, as well.”

 

Zelda’s mouth opens. “You’re kidding.”

 

Link chuckles at her. “No. He was very serious. Rhondson, the Gerudo, didn’t agree with the vows at first. But she was persuaded by the crowd who had been invited to the ceremony, wanting to keep the tradition alive throughout the generations.”

 

“Oh, my,” Zelda says. “That is a…peculiar commitment, I have to admit.”

 

“I agree,” Link says. “But they seem to be happy, regardless.”

 

“One wonders if Hudson was attracted to Rhondson because of her name…” Zelda contemplates aloud.

 

“That probably took a large role. She also mended his clothing, which Hudson would rip through, apparently, each day. I have a feeling he might have done that on purpose so he could go talk to her.”

 

“That’s…kind of sweet, in a way,” Zelda says, tilting her head. “As odd as Hudson sounds, he also sounds very thoughtful. And driven, to start a town single-handedly.”

 

Link nods, glancing over her to the entrance to the town. “Would you like to meet them?”

 

Zelda bounces on her feet, already leading the way through the threshold of town. “Yes! I need to put names to faces. Let’s go.”

 

It doesn’t take them long for Link to give her the tour of the town. It’s quaint, peaceful, and serene, surrounded by the light of a lazy sun and the reflection of the lake below. They walk around the circle of town, bumping into Kapson, the former Zoran priest, first. He’s genial and content at his station of the innkeeper, and he bows upon his immediate recognition of Zelda, welcoming and thanking her.

“I witnessed the Calamity dissipate from view, just as I’m sure all of Hyrule had. It was so sudden, abrupt yet beautiful. All of us in Tarrey Town celebrated for a week,” he says, chuckling. “I knew when Link arrived in Zora’s Domain, it would not be long until Hyrule was healed. I’m still humbled to say he found me one more wedding to officiate before my time grew any shorter.” His eyes sparkle as he looks from Link to Zelda and back to Link. “I would, of course, be happy to officiate another wedding, if this old body of mine continues to keep on ticking. If you ever need me, Your Majesty, you know where to find me.” He winks at them both, laughing heartily. Link notices Zelda’s blush and stuttered answer, “Uh, thank you for the offer, Kapson. I’ll be sure to find you if I know of any engagements.” She averts her glance from Link and marches through the front door and out of the small, gated front yard of the inn toward the shops, putting an increased distance between herself and Link. Link is increasingly amused by this, though he’s not sure if only the idea of marriage flusters her, or if it was the way Kapson indiscreetly looked between the two of them.

 

Zelda meets Fyson, the Ruto, next and buys a bundle of arrows. “It isn’t necessary, but he’s such a good salesman,” she says in explanation to Link when he asks her. “We can never have enough arrows, either, right?” she asks, and Link is inclined to agree. He can barely stuff the ten arrows into his quiver with the rest of them.

 

Greyson and Pelison are next in the circle, and Zelda picks up the beautifully laid ores in succession. Her eyes dissect each one, catching on the facets in the topaz, the dimples in the opal.

 

“Did you know,” Zelda begins, and it’s in her educating, professor-like tone that Link has associated with her sometime in the _before_ , “that these precious stones have resistance properties when interwoven in armor and clothing? For instance, rubies increase fire-resistance, sapphires increase cold-resistance…” Her fingers glide over the stones, touching them with a gentle reverence that has developed from her appreciative knowledge.

 

“I did know that,” Link says, going to reach into his pack. “I learned it on my travels. In fact, I have one.” He pulls out the single piece he discovered on his own, one that is auspiciously the most expensive, yet the type that is no longer needed. He holds it in his hand before her. “A diamond circlet.”

 

Her mouth forms a small ‘o’ as she examines it methodically, regarding it with wonder and fascination. “A diamond circlet,” she repeats. “Of course you would have something like this, Link. I shouldn’t be surprised, but…”

 

Link shakes his head. “Half the things I find are purely from the fact that I like being thorough,” he explains. “The treasures I find, especially the ones that have such a high value like this one, I find without knowing what they might be. Unless I’m following clues or rumors, and I know with certainty what I’m looking for. These,” he says, gesturing with his hand, “are more like accidents.”

 

“Mm,” Zelda mumbles, subdued by the sparkling. “I think I’d call them happy accidents. Where did you find it?”

 

“It was under a labyrinth, northeast of here,” he answers.

 

“A _labyrinth?”_ she starts, then seems to think better of her line of questioning. “Never mind. I’ll ask about that adventure later.”

 

Link smirks a little, and noticing she keeps her hands clasped behind her back, too far away from the item, he says, “Go on, you can hold it. Or put it on, if you’d like.”

 

She blinks, standing up straighter. “Oh. Yes, thank you,” she says, taking the circlet out of his hands carefully. She holds it in her palms like a throne holding a queen, and she eyes the craftsmanship with a practiced judgment.

 

“We had royal jewels in the castle. Not many, but the crowns, a few scepters, necklaces…we had diamonds, too, but the books I read never listed diamonds of having any resistant power other than being beautiful and encouraging envy,” she says. “Does this circlet have any power?”

 

Link nods. “It wouldn’t have been tested back then. It increases resistance against the power of Guardians.”

 

She hums a noise of acknowledgment. “I see. An interesting use for diamonds…” she trails. “This might have helped us, back then. Might have…saved hundreds of lives. Might have protected you from such brutal wounds.”

 

The ways she says it gives Link pause. It had been referenced, on occasion, how roughed up his body had been battered. He recalls Impa’s voice: “You were…in a bad way.”

 

Link remembers the necessary parts of the memory—the blinding glare of the Guardian beams, the fiery, scalding burn, the smell of cooked flesh, the screams of the people in the distance. He remembers pain, too, but that remembrance of sensation is dulled by his squinted vision, desperately trying to focus on Zelda’s face as she commanded the Sheikah to take him away.

 

By the look Zelda gives the circlet, Link ruminates on what _a bad way_ really meant.

 

“It may have helped,” Link says deliberately. “But the result would have been the same.”

 

Zelda sighs, shaking her head and looking up at him. “Yes, you’re right. It’s foolish to dwell on something long past.” She frowns. “Still…I wonder who discovered it.”

 

Link tilts his head in thought. “Possibly Robbie, or perhaps Purah. They’re both mad geniuses,” he grins. “Robbie doesn’t live too far from here if you would like to visit him.”

 

“Robbie…” Zelda says softly, then a smile lengthens the line of her lips. “Yes. I would love to see him.”

 

They carry on towards the house on the far end, where Rhondson has a table set up with her clothing wares. Hudson is standing beside her, and they are in casual conversation while one of the inhabitants, Tuli, Link recalls, is tapping her chin while looking between a Gerudo top and sirwal.

 

When they come closer, Hudson notices Link. He raises an arm in greeting, his eyes pausing for a moment on Zelda—or, Link thinks they do. Hudson’s thick eyebrows have always made it hard for Link to distinguish where Hudson directs his gaze.

 

“Hey, Link,” Hudson greets.

 

“Hey, Hudson,” Link greets back. “I’d like you to meet Zelda. Zelda, Hudson.”

 

Zelda bows her head the only way she knows how—like a princess. Hudson gives her a puzzled look. Link noticed this before, first with Fyson, and then with the Gorons. Perhaps it was the natural tone of Zelda’s presence, the way she carried herself or the way she spoke to them. Whatever it was that they felt, they all seemed to shuffle, gathering themselves up and together, stand taller, and emulate her as if they subconsciously knew she was an important person, though they knew not why or how.

 

Link followed Zelda’s lead with how she greeted herself. There was no mention of being a princess or any talks of Calamity Ganon. There was only polite conversation of tourists visiting a new town. Yet, still, Zelda pulled out the people’s best mannerisms without any attempt on her part to do so.

 

Link had an odd sense of pride when he noticed this, and it only grew when Hudson and Rhondson started to do the same.

 

“Lovely to meet you, Zelda,” Hudson says, also bowing his head. Link doesn’t think he’s ever seen Hudson bow his head before. “This is my wife, Rhondson.”

 

Zelda smiles at them. “Link has told me the story of your engagement and wedding. It sounded like a wonderful ceremony.”

 

Rhondson smiles. “It was. It was better than I imagined it to be, though…” she trails, shoulders shaking in a laugh. “I still wonder why I agreed to such a silly vow.” She looks at Zelda. “I agreed to name our kids with the ending of ‘-son’”.

 

Zelda laughs, too. “Yes, Link mentioned that.”

 

“We must carry on the tradition for our future generations, or it will be lost forever!” Hudson interjects. “Our children’s children will forget how Tarrey Town started, and how I met Rhondson, unless we keep to the contract and make it a tradition.”

 

Usually a peaceful, soft-spoken man, Hudson’s voice raises in volume when he talks about the names. It never ceases to amaze Link.

 

“We forget easily at the hands of time. I want to make sure we remember our past.” He nods his head toward the west. “The Calamity Ganon disappeared not long ago. I’ve only heard tales about the past and how he came to be, about the princess holding the Calamity at bay, waiting for the hero…but I couldn’t tell you why, how it happened, or if any of the tales are true. And also,” he says, and if Hudson could look sheepish, that’s what Link would guess he looks right now. “I really like abiding by contracts.”

 

Rhondson rolls her eyes. “Men. I’m sure you’ve noticed odd quirks in your voe as well, Zelda.”

 

Zelda is flustered again by the allusion to their relationship. Link tries to hide his smirk, all the while Zelda stumbles, “Oh, he’s not…he’s not my… _voe_.”

 

Rhondson sizes him up in that intimidating, Gerudo way. “Hm. Okay, little vai. But you could do worse.”

 

Link gives Rhondson a small smile. Zelda clasps her hands in front of her. “Yes, well…” she trails, glancing over to Hudson again. "What you were saying, Hudson. I think that's a wonderful idea. History is precious, and I agree that we must record it diligently–enough that we may not forget the memories important to us and pass them to our progeny." She smiles at him, then she looks at Link. 

 

"That's why I eventually agreed," Rhondson says, putting an affectionate hand on Hudson's shoulder. "It was the right decision. I still mend his clothes, and he still builds. I suggest you find a man who can build you a house, and support you even if you need no one's support," Rhondson says to Zelda, eyes glittering. "That's when you know you've found a soulmate."

 

Zelda respectfully bows her head to her. "Thank you for that wisdom, Rhondson. I'll be sure to keep an eye out."

 

The first thought that darts through Link's mind at Rhondson's words is, _I have a house._

 

It's effortless—a vulnerable thought he didn't know he'd have. He blinks when it passes, but he shrugs it away for a later time to think on it, along with all the feelings that coalesce in a vortex inside him, swirling and swirling. After all, he thinks, it was my duty to save her and Hyrule. He has an ingrained sense of _protect_ and _shield_ and _save_ when it comes to Zelda. They all bleed together, cocooning her within a realm of security, tethered to him in the storm of his emotions. 

 

As amused as he is about her possible crush on him, and how flustered she gets at every suggestion of love, marriage, and courting, he can't help but wonder if his amusement is a mechanism he uses to avoid thinking about the serious side of what he feels.

 

_Later_ , he tells himself. He'll think about it later.

 

After saying goodbye to Hudson and Rhondson, they come to sit in front of the goddess statue in the center of the town. The sun tells them it is becoming late afternoon, the light a lazy, waning brightness overhead. They make an early dinner, chewing on fruit and roasted meat Link cooks in a hastily made fire pit.

 

"A few others live here, too," Link explains. “Grayte, he lives there," he says, pointing to the house to the left of the entrance. "He's Robbie's son. He's usually up on his deck, looking out across the eastern plains. We can say hi before leaving," he says. "There's an elderly couple living here, too, with their dogs. And there's a husband, wife, and their daughter. The wife, Tuli, had been shopping at Rhondson’s place when you met them."

 

Zelda takes a bite of an apple, glancing at the goddess statue and the lanterns surrounding it. "I would love to meet Gratye. And I love this place. The architecture is unique, different. It's a style I've never seen before. The people are welcoming, and Hudson is very nice. He might be eccentric in a few ways, but who isn't?" she says, taking another bite. Juice dribbles over her lips and to her chin, and Link watches it before she wipes it away. 

 

"He reminds me of you."

 

Link nearly spits out his food. "Hudson? Me?"

 

Zelda grins at his reaction. "Yes! Can't you see it?"

 

Link stares at her. "No."

 

Zelda shifts, leaning her elbows on her knees, sitting cross-legged. She points at him with her half-eaten apple. "Okay, first, you told me that Hudson is a man of few words. You're a man of few words. But he was very passionate today, and _you_ get passionate when things matter to you, as well."

 

Link sits back, grudgingly conceding the points. 

 

Zelda continues. "Hudson is the type of guy who treks across a lot of land to start up a town by himself because he _wants_ to." She spins the apple toward him in her hand. "That's something you would do. If not a town, you'd build or start something by yourself because you were compelled to do it."

 

Link frowns in thought. He supposes she has the right idea, though the only example that truly stands out to him is his mission to take down Ganon—and even then, he couldn't decide if it was really a decision _he_ made. It was his duty. A man can't turn down his duty.

 

Link tells her as much. She furrows her brows at him at the explanation he gives.

 

"Yes, it...was your duty, Link, but in so many words, building is Hudson's duty, too. And all of those quests you've told me about helping people, though you didn't have to, reinforces that idea of your duty being to help."

 

Link blinks at this. She's right. 

 

"Of course I am," Zelda smiles slyly, and Link realizes he said it aloud.

 

He clears his throat. "Alright, fine, I can see the resemblance between us. Even though we're still very different."

 

"You're both men cut from the same cloth—respectable, hard-working, and you don't complain. Much."

 

Link scoffs, but he laughs in the same breath. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll have you mend my clothes when I rip them from all my hard work."

 

Zelda snorts. "Sorry, you'll need Rhondson for that. I can't mend clothes to save my life."

 

"That's a pity. I'm not sure if you're wife material."

 

Zelda blushes at that, but she rolls her eyes and shrugs off the comment with a flick of her hair. 

 

"Oh, I'm good at _other_ things," she says, bringing her gaze back to him. "I'm sure you'll remember soon enough."

 

Her tone is teasing, but Link feels that taut pull in his stomach all the same. His mind drifts to the sensation of her pressed against his back, her soft, pliable body wrapped all around like the stitches of a blanket.

 

She isn't talking about anything suggestive, but... He swallows. Those great fairies put too many ideas in his head.

 

"Uh, yeah," he croaks. "Maybe."

 

"Eventually," she says, missing his uncomfortable twitches. "Remember, I'll help you, too. Just ask."

 

_How close_ were _we?_ is a question he doesn't think is yet appropriate. 

 

Instead, he latches onto what she said before. “You…said a lot of nice things about me, Princess.”

 

She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “They’re true,” she says simply.

 

He scratches the back of his neck. “I appreciate them.”

 

“You’ve always been humble,” she says. “Never showing off your talents to others, but showing them with your character. And your skills with the sword, when it was warranted,” she adds.

 

“You mean, showing off when I wanted to?” he asks, raising a brow.

 

She crosses her arms, and it reminds him of when he raises a shield to parry an attack. “Not necessarily,” she says, then laughs. “You’d put other knights in place when they became too cocky. But you’d do it in a way where I couldn’t even get mad at you.”

 

Link doesn’t understand this. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well,” she says. “My father would usually give you the order to do so, in case they were becoming too rowdy or reckless. I always thought it was a bit ridiculous, all of the male testosterone and the competition and the fights and whatever else. I didn’t really understand it, in the beginning, when my father sent you the first time to the barracks. I thought, what could you possibly do to calm down a large group of soldiers that my father, the King of Hyrule, couldn’t? Then one day, you were sent to the Akkala Citadel to calm the group of knights stationed there, and I came with you to survey a shrine nearby. That’s what I told you—but I was more than curious to watch you handle things and see what you did to make the soldiers listen to you. Once you safely escorted me to the shrine, you went to the Citadel. I waited for a while, when I was sure you wouldn’t see me, and followed you.”

 

Link imagines Zelda being wide-eyed, innocent, and using sweet words to avoid any of his suspicion. Though, he does wonder if that _wouldn’t_ have made him suspicious. “You lied?”

 

Zelda colors. “ _No_. I still surveyed the shrine. I just didn’t tell you that I would…follow you, that’s all.”

 

“Right,” Link says, hiding a smirk. He definitely would have been suspicious. “Was this when you still didn’t like me very much?”

 

Zelda shifts positioning, and she sighs. “I was warming up to you a little bit, but…yes, I still didn’t like you very much. It was, however, surprising to see what happened. My mind started to change, but it wouldn’t completely until—”

 

 “The Yiga Clan?” Link asks.

 

“Yes…” Zelda confirms. “At the Kara Kara Bazaar. That’s when it really shifted. At the Citadel—perhaps this was a little selfish and naïve of me—but I didn’t want you to know I saw you. It was my secret, and I wanted to finally have something that wasn’t…known about or overshadowed by you. I wasn’t used to having someone following me around all of the time, and I had a hard time getting used to that,” she sighs.

 

“I didn’t understand then, but I understand now,” he tells her softly, remembering her outburst at him to leave her alone when he reached her at the Tena Ko’sah shrine. “What was it that I did for the soldiers?”

 

“You…it’s funny. All you did was walk out onto their training courtyard. Everyone would stop sparring, shouting, whatever they were doing. You didn’t have to say a word. They knew who you were—and I think you trained with many of them before you were chosen by the Master Sword. They respected you. Some didn’t, of course, and they often challenged you to duels. But others would bow to you. I thought it the oddest thing, at first. Then I got frustrated. They honored you, like the hero you were destined to be. I should have been humbled,” she says.

 

“You weren’t,” Link states, and Zelda shakes her head.

 

“No, not at all,” she says, and she sounds frustrated still, but it’s directed at herself. “I’m as stubborn as a royal mule.”

 

Link laughs at that.

 

“You also rallied them, too. You called out names of some of the soldiers, and they would come to attention immediately. They would salute. They would look embarrassed when you would tell them that the King was disappointed in their behavior, and that there was no reason for you to babysit fully grown men.” She smiles. “Looking back on it now, I admired it. You were able to effortlessly change that restless energy and focus them to becoming better warriors. That seemed to be yet another natural talent you had.”

 

Link grimaces, shaking his head. “I’m not sure if it was natural. I’m certain I dreaded having to stand before them and give them a speech, acting confident when I wasn’t.”

 

“Maybe,” Zelda says. “If you did, I couldn’t tell.”

 

Link grins at that. “I’m pretty good at being stoic when I want to be.”

 

Zelda laughs. “Yes. That’s true.”

 

“You said that this helped you come around to me a little bit…” he states, trailing it off into a question.

 

Zelda nods slowly. “Yes…I started to have some semblance of respect for you.” She smiles in apology. “I admit, though, that it did make me resent you a little more. Well, perhaps resent is too strong a word, but overall it came out as a grudging respect. I compromised with myself that I could respect you, but I didn’t have to like you.”

 

“You were so hard to please,” he says, but he says it with quiet affection. “I remember being confused about you, trying to figure out what I could possibly do to have you not hate the fact that I was appointed to protect you. Who knew all I had to do was save your life from a cult tribe?" 

 

She rolls her eyes and pushes at his shoulder. “Yeah,” she says. “Who knew.”

 

They decide to stay at the inn that evening, Kapson offering them a free stay as it was the least he could do for them saving Hyrule. They could not argue the offer and happily accepted.

 

Come morning they would begin to make their journey to Robbie’s Tech Lab.

 

Link wondered how Robbie would react seeing Zelda again after 100 years. Then he promptly stopped.

 

Robbie was too unconventional to predict.


	5. v. In which Zelda catches up with Robbie and Link has a confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immense apologies for the huge delay on this one. I hope you all enjoy reading, if you're still around!

“Zelda. Princess Zelda!”

Robbie moves his goggles off his eyes onto his forehead, blinking a dozen times. He comes up and grabs her hands in his own.

“I didn’t know if I’d still be alive to see this day come when you came to visit me once more.” He beams at her. “You haven’t aged a day. Not even a wrinkle! I knew Ganon wouldn’t give you any trouble.”

Zelda realizes she’s squeezing his hands with enough force to create diamonds. Regardless, Robbie’s happy smile tells her he doesn’t seem to mind, even when the image of his tufted, voluminous hair begins to blur around the edges of her vision.

The immediate rush of emotion hits her like a speeding war horse. “Oh, Robbie,” she sighs, her voice cracking a little. “It is very good to see you.”

“Oh, Zelda, dear,” he says, patting her hand. “All is well! Don’t cry, for Hylia’s sake. I hate when women cry—just ask Jerrin.”

Zelda lets out a watery laugh. “They’re happy tears, Robbie.”

“Doesn’t matter! I still like smiles better.”

Zelda wipes her eyes with the back of her arm in a sloppy manner, shaking her head at him. “I know, I know, I’ll try. Anyway, please tell me how you’ve been! Tell me everything I’ve missed these past 100 years.“

Robbie ushers her and Link to sit around a side table with him and Jerrin, and he regales her on the tales of the past, with how he invented Cherry—who is no longer called Cherry—how he met and fell in love with and married Jerrin—never mind the fact that she may be half his age because true love has no age—because she has such an intriguing and intelligent mind. “Her brilliance challenges me!” he says, stroking Jerrin’s hand. “And somehow she puts up with my scattered brain.”

Robbie tells her of his inventions, of the Guardian armor he made for Link, along with the arrows and bow and shields, and how, astonishingly, the years passed by so quickly, that it doesn’t feel as if Zelda or Link had been gone longer than half a decade.

“It’s a bit frightening how consumed I had gotten with my inventions—suddenly life had flashed by and time had escaped me completely. But I have Jerrin, and I have Granté, though he’s on his own in the world now, exploring the sights and sounds of Hylia.”

“We met him!” Zelda says. “In Tarrey Town. He has a beautiful house there, and he sells armor. He’s very nice.”

“Oh, good,” Jerrin says. “I was hoping we did well with him. See, Robbie? We did just fine.”

“I’m sure it was mostly you, darling,” Robbie says, and Jerrin huffs a laugh and rolls her eyes.

“I will admit that you were, at times, eyeballs deep in your contraptions. And you were strangely absent when Granté needed diaper changes...”

Robbie shrugs. “I usually had a spark of ideas whenever Granté needed anything. It’s _true_ ,” he emphasizes when Zelda snickers and Link smiles. “It’s almost as if Granté’s needs precipitated my inventions.”

“Oh, I’m sure they did,” Jerrin says, not without amusement.

They settle in for the evening, the conversation swerving to Link and Zelda as the sun begins to set. Robbie asks her for the details of Zelda’s hundred year battle, and she explains it in a similar fashion as to how she explained it to Link before. Instead of swords interlocking, hers and Ganon’s spirits did, with energies swirling and biting at each other, irritating and aggravating. It was almost as if they played a game—a mean, petty game, full of insult and stalemated force.   

“It was like a long dream, I suppose,” Zelda says, shrugging a shoulder. “Some parts are vivid, and others I couldn’t even try to recollect in my memory. A lot is shrouded in a haze. Link, though, did most of the work once he finally decided to wake up,” she says lightly, turning the topic to land right on his shoulders. Robbie takes the bait splendidly, asking Link about the battle inside Hyrule Castle. Zelda gets comfortable in her chair with her tea that Jerrin generously brewed for the table.

Zelda and Link had yet to talk about the battle. Of course, Zelda could feel him inside the castle walls, sensing his spirit along the corridors and tunnels. She was with him through most of it, had witnessed it all, but had not asked him directly his view of the battle as a whole.

Link clears his throat at the sudden attention, running a quick hand through his hair. Zelda smiles. She’s noticed this on more than one occasion, when more than a pair of eyes are on him, Link has his own quirks. It’s almost as if it’s his ritual, helping him to acclimate to the burden of extra attention.

“The battle…” he begins. “It was…challenging. But I was well prepared.”

He takes a pull from his tea, and he says nothing more. They all stare at him, waiting, until Zelda shoves his arm.

“Link! That’s no fun. Tell us everything.”

His lips quirk at her. “You were there, princess. What did you see?”

“We asked you first,” she immediately counters. “It’s only fair.”

“Bossy as ever,” Robbie interjects good-naturedly. “I’m happy to see the years did nothing to take away from your charming personality, Zelda.”

Jerrin smacks Robbie’s shoulder, and Link snorts up some of his tea—which doesn’t go unnoticed. Zelda ignores him and takes to giving Robbie a playful glare. “Just because I have no more castle doesn’t mean I can’t throw you in the dungeon, Robbie.”

He laughs before bowing his head. “That I don’t doubt for a second.”

Zelda smiles, swiveling her glare to Link. “Alright, hero, spill it. How was it invading the castle? And the showdown with Ganon?”

Link sets his cup down gently, gliding his thumb over the handle. “As you wish,” he says, holding her gaze, and she can’t define the look as anything other than cheeky. “I think I should begin with saying that when going in to face Ganon, that hadn’t been the first time I visited the castle.”

Zelda blinks. “It wasn’t?”

“No,” Link says, shaking his head. “Did you not notice my presence there before then? Before I went to face Ganon?”

A frown of thought creases the lines around her forehead. “I…no. Strange. I guess I didn’t.”

Link shrugs a little. “I didn’t have the Master Sword during the times I visited. Perhaps that was the missing piece that would have alerted you to me. You were, after all, holding an immense amount of concentration holding him in.”

Zelda almost blushes with shame. She didn’t think she wouldn’t have noticed Link being so near, his stitched up soul being so close to her own, due to the mere fact that he hadn’t obtained the sword of destiny. Surely, her power would have allowed her to feel more than the relic passed through time, more than the magic it held within its steel—but then…perhaps not.

“You said…’times’. What did you mean by that?” she asks, the disappointment rising up in her stomach.

He is giving her a peculiar look, the bright cerulean of his eyes turning into a dull slate, becoming guarded and careful. It’s a defense mechanism he has. She’s seen this before.

“I went…twice before meeting Ganon,” Link says. “A few Hylian’s I had come across piqued my interest in items that I could find in the castle. It gave me an excuse to see if the rumors held any weight, while also allowing me to examine the layout of the castle. I was able to plan the best way to infiltrate it for later on,” he says. “The second time I went was to retrieve a memory.”

“Ah,” she says. “Yes, of course. The memory on the bridge leading to my study.” Her favorite memory, to be sure, she thinks sarcastically.

Link must hear the grimace in her tone because he clears his throat. “Yes…anyway,” he redirects. “Would you all like to hear the rumors I searched before I tell you about the battle?”

Link is met with a resounding yes from everyone—mostly Jerrin’s easy exuberance at the thought of rumors, and Zelda’s slightly overeager tones (only _slightly_ as, even now, the ingrained feelings she learned to have against rumors have blunted her emotions). Robbie nods, though he rolls his eyes and says that he’s heard so many rumors over the years working for the King, that he couldn’t care one way or the other. 

With that, Link carries on in telling them of the man he met at the Riverside Stable, who had an immeasurable passion for food. Curious, Link listened to the man’s ravings about a recipe that was in the castle somewhere, that he needed to know. He would do it himself, of course, if he had any semblance to a trained warrior or soldier, but his hand was more fit for a ladle than a sword.

Zelda smiles at the idea of a curious Link, interrupting. “Were you curious because you love food as well, hero?”

Link scoffs a laugh. “Well, it is true that I really like food. The man’s passion was inspiring, and I can admit that it inspired me, too. I couldn’t help wondering about the recipe…it kept gnawing at me. I had to know what it was—and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I already knew what it was. It was one of those frustrating lost memories, I assumed at the time.” He shrugs. “Before I knew it, I was scaling along the castle, thinking about all the places the recipe might be hiding.”

Zelda tuts. “You’re a glutton. I remember when I first realized that about you. You always seemed to be constantly eating something in our journeys.”

A light pink shine runs along Link’s cheekbones, though he looks at her and tries to be nonchalant. “You can’t help what you love. Right, Zelda?”

Zelda blinks at the words. They almost seemed to hold a challenge in them, as if he was trying to pull out the secret between her teeth, looking at her with those eyes that could swallow her soul—

“Anyway,” Link continues. “I managed to find my way to the dining area…”

Zelda blinks again. Or, perhaps he wasn’t. Internally, she sighs at herself. _Overactive brain,_ she thinks. _Give it a rest. Stop reading into_ every single word _he says_.

Link tells of how he found his way to the dining room, the armory, how he triggered a few traps on accident because he was too focused on exploring for a book containing all of the royal recipes. And then, at last, he found his way into the library, slaying at least five Lizalfos to get to not just one recipe, but two.

“That’s where I learned that you loved fruit cakes,” he says, looking at Zelda. “For the second time. I remembered pieces—you reading a book, or studying, something of the sort, with a piece of cake beside you. It was a distant dream, coming back to me, though I couldn’t be sure if I was making up these memories, trying to remember false ideas of you. Not knowing what was real and what wasn’t was the hardest part.”

Zelda smiles sadly. “I know, Link. I’ll always wish you didn’t have that burden.”

“I might not have worked as hard if I didn’t,” Link counters. Zelda feels her face go slack with surprise at his flippant, teasing words, and then he does something even more shocking.

He winks. _Winks._

Her lips part a little. She’s not sure she’s seen him wink even in the _before_ time. Or give her such a sly smirk in succession with a wink, as he’s doing now.

“But the journey in getting to know one another again is fun, isn’t it?” Jerrin says, not noticing Zelda’s sudden silence or wide eyes. “My time getting to know Robbie was, by far, the most interesting experience I’ve had. Reliving our journey together would indeed be something sweet.” Then she looks between the two of them, smiling with a knowing warmth. Zelda, for her part, feels the oppression of it. From Link being—well, being Link is the only thing he’s ever needed to do to make Zelda lose at least a modicum of her composure—and from what seems like every being in Hyrule making very transparent suggestive remarks about their relationship, it seems all the words have failed her.

Not to mention the blush that is permanently suspended on her cheeks. It is maddening.

“I’m enjoying it,” Link says, still looking at her. Zelda looks away and realizes with a singular focus that their hands are quite close to each other on the table. Her grip around her tea mug increases. She clears her throat.

“You’ll have to tell us the story of how you met Robbie, Jerrin,” Zelda redirects, smiling at her. “After Link finishes his.”

Jerrin matches her smile. “I would love to.”

Robbie shakes his head. “Be gentle in the storytelling, Jerrin. I was not the best suitor in the beginning…”

“Oh, hush,” Jerrin says, then she gestures back to Link. “I apologize, Link. Do continue!”

Link nods, continuing on with his tale. He tells them how he brought back the recipe to the man at the stable, who was immensely overjoyed to know a favorite dish of the Princess Zelda of legend.

“I remember those days you would eat fruit cake,” Robbie says. “It wouldn’t matter what time of the day it was. Sometimes, you’d read about the ancient tech into the wee hours of the morning, and you’d send for a piece to keep yourself upright and awake.” Robbie chuckles. “Your passion almost equaled mine!”

Zelda smiles into her teacup, taking a sip. She glances at Link, who seems to be in thought.

“Link…” she ventures, and he looks up to her. “Do you ever remember bringing me cake? My servants always did, but once you became my guard, you started to take on the duty.”

He begins to frown. “I…vaguely,” he says after a moment. “I remember your father instructing me to stop the servants from bringing you any, once he realized you were still studying technology instead of prayer against his orders.”

Zelda blinks. Her father made them stop? But…

“I didn’t know that,” Zelda says, eyebrows furrowing. “You still brought them to me.”

Link shrugs. “I guess I didn’t think depriving you of cake would solve anything.”

Zelda is struck by this again. That had been at the beginning, just a few weeks into Link’s newly bequeathed guardianship. She remembers opening her chamber doors at three am, distaste littering the border of the memory when Link was in her doorway. She was clad in her pajamas, eyes weary, hair in disarray, and looking like a ghost (she knows this, because she looked at the mirror right after taking the cake and slamming the door on him).

The next time, in which she very hesitantly sent for it. As much as she didn’t want to see him, her stomach didn’t care and prevailed with its needs. She remembered being hopeful that a trusty servant would handle it instead, as it was late afternoon and not the witching hours of the morning.

She remembers opening up the door that second time, immediately assaulted by Link’s gaze.

“Princess,” he had said, bowing.

“This isn’t your job,” she said coldly.

Link, for all intents and purposes, took her accusation with grace. “I’m not only your guardian, but your personal servant.”

“Your job isn’t to bring me cake,” she said. “You’re a warrior. This is below your station.”

“If it’s below my station, then I’ll have no problem filling the role.”

He bowed once more, she took the cake, and he left without another word. Zelda, her stubbornness growing to maximal proportions, didn’t send for cake for a whole month after that.

And to think, he’d done it against orders, knowing only her disdain, because he _wanted to._

Link, she’s sorry to say, can’t seem to help endearing himself to her. By the look on his face, it seems to be entirely on accident.

 _Not that he has to try,_ her brain says. She glares internally.

Robbie takes this moment of Zelda’s silence to guffaw. “Zelda, at a loss for words! I don’t know how you do it, Link, but that’s a rare talent you have. You’ve got to teach me one of these days.”

Link offers a knowing smile, and Jerrin, bless her, hits Robbie in the arm with a forceful punch. Robbie’s laughs turn into huffs of pain.

“Keep this up, and she really will throw you into the dungeon, Robbie,” Jerrin says.

“Sure, sure,” Robbie says, waving it off. “Anyway, Link, what was the second recipe, did you say?”

“No, I didn’t,” Link says, and he carries on, telling them of the monster cake recipe—which, he says, “Isn’t made of monster parts.” To which is answered with a collective sigh of relief from the table.

He tells them how it’s made out of monster essence. “It sounds disgusting, but it’s actually delicious. I’ll make it for you tonight, if you’d like.”

“As nice as that sounds, Link,” Jerrin says, the green tint on her face receding. “I think I may have to pass.”

“Ditto,” says Robbie. Link shakes his head at both of them.

“Here I thought you were adventurous, Robbie.”

“Hah!” Robbie exclaims. “Couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t think I’ve left my house in fifty years!”

“Speaking of adventurous,” Zelda says. “I’m very curious about the fight with Ganon we still need to hear.”

“Agreed,” Robbie says. He readjusts his goggles, his eyes magnified to even larger proportions than before. “Did the ancient tech help you, Link?”

“It did,” Link says, straightening. “The arrows were my favorite. The armor was nice, too.”

“Ah, wonderful,” Robbie says, grinning. “It took me years to make those. Good thing to know that they came in useful for the one person who would use them.”

Link gives his signature laugh—very bright and very brief.

“I’m glad you spent so much time in perfecting them, Robbie. They made things easier, especially getting into the castle. There were a lot of guardians and sentries on stand-by.”

“How many, do you think?” Zelda asks. “I could feel more of the inside. The outside just felt like a shroud of dark.”

Link nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I don’t know…a good handful.” 

Zelda stares at him, but it’s hard to tell if he’s lying from the angle. “A handful? What does that mean?”

“Uh…” he says, rubbing his neck. “I guess a couple dozen or so…”

 Jerrin titters, and Zelda makes an odd, strangled noise. “A couple dozen is not a handful, Link!”

He shifts in his chair, avoiding eye contact with everyone around the table. “Well, like I said, it wasn’t so bad with all of the equipment I had going in. I prepared for it, and it worked.”

“Oh, Link,” Zelda sighs, shaking her head. She has to remind herself that Link grossly under-exaggerates everything that’s connected with him. “So, inside the castle there were only a couple handfuls more?”

This pulls a small smile out of him. “There weren’t any guardians inside the castle. Just the stray moblin or lizalfos.”

“Mhm,” Zelda says. “And what does that mean, in non-hero speak?"

“Just a few,” Link says. “It was considerably worse outside the castle. Really,” he emphasizes after Zelda gives him a look. “The Master Sword was much more powerful inside because of Ganon’s presence, and probably your presence, too.”

“I do remember the sound of it—the Master Sword,” Zelda says, closing her eyes for a moment. “Almost like it was singing.”

Link watches her. “I could feel you, too. It might have been because of the sword, or wishful thinking, but…” he shrugs. “After all the memories I gained back, I felt more aware of everything. I had more…resolve. I felt the purpose of my duty, and I knew what was expected of me, but the memories gave me clarity where nothing else would.”

Zelda smiles. “I was hoping they would. That’s why I left them behind.”

Link looks at her thoughtfully. "I was always wondering how you left them. They were pictures from our journey?"

She nods. “Yes. On our travels, I took pictures with the slate. You know how obsessed with it I am. And keeping some of them was an impulsive decision I made before going to the castle, in the hopes that they would help.”

"How did you know they would trigger my memory?"

Zelda only shakes her head. "I didn't. I hoped they would, and pictures had always reminded me of times long past... There were more of them, but I chose the ones I thought most important.”

“Zelda’s always had great judgment on those kinds of things,” Robbie speaks up. Jerrin is smiling at them, and Zelda keeps noticing how, suddenly, her and Link are sitting quite closely beside one another. “I wouldn’t worry that you’re missing out, Link.”

Link looks at him. “I agree, Robbie. I wouldn’t trust anybody else with that.”

“Good thing, because I’m the only one that could keep them,” Zelda says, shaking her head. She is determined not to succumb to Link’s flattery, even if his compliments sound particularly like factual information. “So, after you slayed all of the monsters in the castle and you came to the sanctuary to face Ganon, what happened?”

“Ganon took the form of a hideous beast, swathed with malice. It was a cross between a spider and a Lynel, it’s head larger than me in height and as thick as a boulder. Each of his arms ended in an ancient tech weaponry. Scythes, axes, swords…all kinds of things. But before our battle started, the four champions used the energy from their beams of light and burned him to the point where he had only half his life left.” Link smiles. “I owe them. The battle wasn’t nearly as difficult with their help.”

“They all waited a very long time to finally have that moment,” Zelda says. “I heard their speeches before unleashing their full power.”

Link nods. “Ganon was severely injured, but he still didn’t give up without a challenging fight. Once I gave the last blow in the castle, he took on one last form and transported us to the fields beyond. He resembled a giant boar, with tusks that spanned across his face and a bright, red fire that spread across his back and around his eyes. He was fearsome, possibly eight stories in height. But Zelda’s presence was free by then, and she guided me through that battle. Didn’t you?” Link says, looking at Zelda.

“Yes…” she says. “Once you defeated Ganon inside the sanctuary, the stalemate between us was broken, and part of my spirit was free. I was able to bestow you with the bow of light, and I could speak to you more, if you needed.”

“A few well-placed arrows, and the battle was over,” Link says, looking back to Jerrin and Robbie. “And that was that.”

Robbie guffaws at the ending. “Link, only you could end the tale of saving the world so modestly. We should imagine the battle being ten times as worse as you said, to get an accurate idea. Right, Zelda?”

She laughs lightly. “Right. I was anxious the entire battle, though I had full confidence in Link’s abilities in the fight. It was still very stressful to watch, especially when Link would miss a block or a parry.”

“So, you were able to watch?” Link says, voice curious.

“It’s fuzzy, and it was on the edges of my periphery, but yes, I was watching.”

 Link looks oddly smug about this.

“Why?” she asks.

Jerrin smiles, a knowing edge on the curve of it. “Link, you knew all along didn’t you? I would even say you were trying to impress her, if I was so bold.”

Link blinks at this, and then he surprises all of them by giving an indulgent smirk.

“I wouldn’t say you’re wrong,” he says. “But I was also hopeful that I wasn’t going to make a fool out of myself and have chaos spread across the world. I wouldn’t be able to live down Zelda’s disappointment.”

The light sarcasm that coats Link’s tone makes Zelda give a short snort. This makes Jerrin and Robbie start laughing.

“Zelda’s wrath would have probably ended the world quicker than Ganon, hands down,” Robbie says.

“I’d agree with that,” Link says, earning him a shove from Zelda.

“Ha-ha, yes. Well, all jokes aside, I don’t think it couldn’t have ended any better.”

“I suppose not,” Link says.

They finish their tea soon after the end of Link’s story. Night had fallen a few hours prior, the day passing by them swiftly with conversation. Zelda can’t believe how quickly the time flew by from mere conversation, but her heart is full from the company and her limbs are warm from the tea.

Robbie remarks at the time, and they all soon retire. Jerrin offers up Granté’s old room, to which Link encourages Zelda to take. He, in turn, sets up a bedroll in the main room. Zelda notes he places it right in front of the doorway.

Zelda falls into a slumber quite quickly, as had become her habit and a blessing during her time as princess and during her journeys with Link. After Calamity, she’s always had some type of dream during the night, be it of interacting with one of the four champions, walking through the corridors of the once beautiful castle, or with Calamity Ganon staring her down from their interlocked stalemate. Whether nightmares or peaceful dreams, it never seemed to affect her in the way her dreams once did. She thinks it may be because of the hundred year distance between her old seventeen year old self and the new. Channeling the Goddess Hylia, having that power and control over such an otherworldly, torrential being, gave her a different level of confidence and a transformed pair of eyes.

Dreams and nightmares seem to be child’s play, now. Sometimes insightful, and sometimes trying to awaken unsupported fears.

She wakes up in the middle of the night from some such dream—ending with the figure of Hylia, reminiscent of the vision she had before the Calamity took shape. Shrouded in shadows but beaming with a glorious, blinding light, bestowing her with stale fear and presentiment.

She sits up in the bed, wiping at her eyes. The weight of the dream settles on her chest, slowly melting its way back into her, the hum of her old power tingling in her fingers. She hasn’t felt the essence of light inside her since coming out of the fight a week prior, though she has felt a reminiscent spark in her palms when touching objects surrounding her, or when she takes in a part of the world that is beautiful, rich with colors and energy from the surrounding populace. At first, she thought it was mere excitement from seeing the world again, physically and with her own eyes instead of from memories, and the deeper connection she feels with the spirits and lands of Hyrule. Now, however, she thinks it must be the vestiges of the power she had, and whatever she still may have. It might be dormant, or even transformed into another type of power, as she doesn’t know why she would still need any sort of power anymore.  

She tries to lay back and fall asleep, but it’s futile. She’s too awake, and any drowsiness runs away due to the occasional spark in her hands. Sighing, Zelda gets up from the bed. On a whim, she decides to go downstairs and sit outside. Fresh air would do her good, she thinks.

She stops in her tracks once she begins to descend to the bottom floor. Link is standing before the fireplace, a small fire crackling and throwing warm, dim, orange light against the walls. He is fully awake, his arms crossed and watching the fire. He glances up at her immediately.

“Princess,” he says, surprised.

“Link,” she answers, continuing down the steps. “Can’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “No, not tonight. I’ve slept for a lifetime. You, either?”

“No, not really. I woke up from a dream.”

He turns towards her fully at this, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside the hearth. She realizes that he’s in his sleep attire—as he should be, as it’s appropriate since they’re _supposed_ to be sleeping—but usually in their travels, they camp, and they both sleep in their journeying clothes. It keeps their sense of modesty, she’s always supposed, as well as keeping them ready for any impromptu actions that might occur during the middle of the night. It’s…different, to see him in his undershirt, trousers, and bare feet. It gives him an unguarded and completely vulnerable aspect that is so distinctly straightforward, it gives her pause. It’s one thing to achieve his vulnerability in words and glances, but quite another to attach a physical quality to it. In the back of her mind, she’s aware that she also chose to don the only loose night shirt she had left from the castle that she salvaged. Oddly enough, she isn’t embarrassed standing in front of him with it on. Probably because it’s as modest as her armor.

“A dream?” he asks. “It wasn’t a nightmare?”

Zelda shakes her head. “No, not at all. Just a dream—or a memory. I couldn’t put my mind to rest after.”

Link makes a noise. “What was it about?”

“Oh, just about an old vision I had. Before Calamity.” Zelda comes around to sit in a chair in front of the small, short flames. “Hylia sent me a message about the fast approaching doom.”

“Ah,” Link says, nodding in recognition. “I remember that.”

Zelda frowns at this. She doesn’t think she ever confided in him about that particular vision, back then.

“You do?” she asks.

Link opens his mouth, and in the second after, he closes it with a muffled click of his teeth. “Uh, I think so. You told me about it, right?”

Zelda narrows her eyes in thought. “I’m not sure. I know I wrote it in my diary, because it felt too important, and I felt a deep, darkening fear. I…guess I wouldn’t be surprised if I told you. It weighed on me, but I don’t think I would have wanted to place that burden on you, too…” she trails. When she looks up to Link, he’s looking into the flames again. The shadows flicker on his face, hiding and accentuating his features with gentle abandon. His jaw moves, as if he’s contemplating on what to say.

After a moment, he says, “Maybe I confused it with something else.”

Zelda thinks for a moment longer. That was the only dream she had ever had about the goddess Hylia. And she knew she had written it down in her…

And suddenly, realization hits her.

“Link,” she says, voice a high hiss. “Did you...did you read my _diary?”_

He maintains his position towards the fire, so she can’t make out his face. “Uh…”

“Link…”

He raises a hand to the back of his neck.

“It was in my bedroom. And I know you look through _everything._ ”

“Well…I didn’t realize what it was…”

“It has ‘Zelda’s Diary’ in golden letters on the front cover!”

“Oh…” he says. Then he turns, giving her the most sheepish look she’s ever seen from him. His cheeks look red, too, but that could be from the glow of the fire. “Well, ah, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t read anything I didn’t already know from the memories you left.”

Zelda has a chill run down her throat, freezing up her stomach despite the cozy heat emanating from the hearth. Her eyes widen in panicked thoughts. What else did she write in her damn diary? It couldn’t have been anything terribly telling…she didn’t dare ever put into writing her deepest, darkest emotions.

Partially because Link was nosy as a heathen. And tediously thorough. She suppresses a groan, rubbing at her face to hide a bit of her horror.

“It was wide open on the table,” Link tries. “It just…caught my eye. I couldn’t… help it.” He shrugs, lamely finishing his excuse that isn’t actually an excuse. “I’m sorry, Zelda, I read the first sentence, and then I just, uh, kept reading…I was really curious...”

Zelda gives a little sigh. It could be worse. She could have written his name with a heart dotting the I. Or she could have written his name out multiple times on random pages. Or she could have written Z + L in the margins. Really, she could have done a dozen lovesick things for him to find her out. It’s a blessing she never cared about those silly, schoolgirl things.

Looking up at Link, his face becoming guiltier and more distraught by the second, she knows she’d never be angry at him for long.

“Oh, it’s fine, Link. What’s done is done.”

Her words don’t help his guilty frown. In fact, they might have made it worse. He steps forward, coming to stand before her. Then he surprises her by kneeling, hesitating before tentatively taking her right hand in his left.

“I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, princess,” he says, looking down at the floor. Then he looks up into her eyes, the shadows climbing around his face in a cacophonous outline. “I saw your handwriting—I didn’t realize that I knew it was your handwriting before I knew it was your diary. One of those unconscious memories, I think. But suddenly, I _needed_ to read it, because it was you.” He clears his throat. “Your voice in the pages, I mean. And like I said, I was…curious.”

Zelda blinks at him. He was kneeling, of all things.

 _And he’s holding your hand!_ Some part inside her is shouting. _When has he ever voluntarily held your hand?_

She nearly blushes at her ridiculous thoughts. Then she rolls her eyes. “Oh, Link, don’t be so dramatic. There’s no need for you to kneel. But I appreciate the gesture.”

He gives her a half-smile, remaining on his knee. “You’re my princess. I’ll always kneel for your forgiveness.”

She shakes her head at him. “Flattering, Link. But truly, it’s an antiquated gesture these days. Besides,” she says, lifting up her shoulder and trying to feel as apathetic about it on the inside as she was on the outside. “It was just a diary.”

His thumb is swiping across her knuckles, and she nearly jumps when she notices. She glances at their hands. If Link notices, she can’t tell.

“Does this mean you won’t throw me in the dungeon, later?”

“As much as I’d love to,” she teases. “No. You’re off the hook, for now.”

“I guess I’ll have to tell Robbie all it takes is kneeling.”

“Oh, Robbie won’t get off the hook as easily as you can.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t need him to escort me across Hyrule.”

“Ah,” Link says. “I guess I’ve lucked out.”

“I guess so,” Zelda says, smiling. He continues to gently rub her knuckles with his thumb, and she is intoxicated by it and the unyielding warmth of the fire. It ensconces them, wrapped around them like a cocoon. 

She can live in this moment forever, she thinks. She can even lean forward the few inches and kiss him.

The thought startles her enough to break the spell, like a cool wind blowing out a candle. She blinks, clearing her throat, and she abruptly removes her hand from his.

“I think it’s time for me to retire,” she says, going to stand. Link stands with her.

“Oh,” he says, and she notices him curling his fingers into his hand. Hers is still hanging on to his warmth, sparking with the odd refuse of old power. She resists the reflex to shake it out. “Of course. It’s late, and you need rest for tomorrow. If you’d like, we can go to the labyrinth I mentioned. It’s just northeast of here.”

“That sounds very nice, Link,” she says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nods his head, moving aside to let her walk to the stairs.

“Goodnight, Zelda.”

She pauses on the foot of the stairs and looks back at him. There's something about the firelight, she thinks, the heat, and his eyes, and the soft, cradling shadows, makes her want to be bold, and stay, and _tell him_.

It’s quite frightening how a different tone of light can bring down her barrier of protection (and she admits, him kneeling before her)—at least for one fleeting moment.

“Goodnight, Link.”


	6. vi. In which Link and Zelda get lost and flustered for most of the day

“And then…left!” Zelda proclaims, turning left. Her nose is buried so deeply into the map on the Slate that she is inches from running into the wall. She lets out a shocked _eep!_ and then proceeds to let out a mangled sigh.

“This map is lying!” she says, whirling on Link, who’s behind her. “I know I can read a map. This map is incorrect.”

Link presses his lips together to keep from laughing outright. “I promise it isn’t.”

She squints her eyes at him in a glare. Then she turns to look at the wall. She looks back down at the map, zooms in as close as she can, and then looks up at the wall again.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to—“

“Shh!” she shushes, raising an arm to silence him. “No! I told you, no hints! If you could figure it out, then I can, too.”

Link looks at the back of her head dubiously. They’ve been in this maze since this morning, and it’s now just passing noon. He sighs and pulls an apple out of his pack. At this rate, they might finish it by dinner time. If only she’d just look up, then she’d see the metal crate she needed to move…

Link must admit, though, it is _really fun_ watching Zelda overthink everything that looks slightly out of place. Riling her up with pestering questions like _, are you sure you don’t want to know?_ And _a little hint wouldn’t hurt, would it?_ Has been so much more amusing than he thought it would be. Her cheeks flush a rosy pink when she’s mad, and her chest heaves with her forceful huffing. Her braid is unraveling from the several times she’s run her fingers through it. Link could do this daily and never get tired of her reactions.

It’s as if she _wants_ the maze to be hard. Link doesn’t even want to think about how long it would take them if they went to the Gerudo labyrinth.

“Oh, good grief!” she exclaims, then points the slate at the metal crate.

Link snickers.

“I don’t want to hear it, Link!” she says, moving the box over. Part of its shadow falls over him, and he jumps out of the way before it lands on top of him.

“You’re the one who’s thinking about this too hard,” he answers, following her up the wall and into the open space.

She harrumphs. “I’d rather think too much than too little.”

“If you do, we’ll be here until next week.”

“Oh, _please._ It’s only going to take me a few days, not a week.”

Link laughs. “I guess I’ll settle in here and wait for you to decipher this hallway.”

“It’s called observing.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

She shakes her head, face full of the map again. “You know, I’m surprised. You’ve been kind of patient.”

“Kind of?” Link scoffs, teasing. “It’s because you’re so entertaining to watch.”

“What does that mean?” Zelda says, only half paying attention to the conversation, now. “I’m entertaining to watch from behind?”

The words halt Link in his tracks. His eyes immediately fall to her bottom before he pointedly directs his eyes to the walls. “No. I mean, yes—I mean…” Link feels his neck heat up and clenches his teeth at his reaction. He’ll admit it—it’s always been a little difficult walking the designated three steps behind her at all times without getting a little distracted on occasion. And, of course, this is a memory that he remembers quite vividly. “I only meant that it’s fun to watch you get frustrated. That’s all.”

Zelda stops walking, glancing over her shoulder at him. She has a bemused look on her face. Her eyebrows fall in suspicion. “Right…” she says, then turns back to the map.

Link swears she starts swaying her hips more. They undulate. It’s hypnotic. He blinks. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess she knows exactly what she’s doing to him.

He runs a hand over his face and follows. Only three more hours, he thinks, finding the resolute stoicism within.

* * *

 “I told you I would find it!” Zelda shouts with triumph once she sees the shrine up ahead.

“I never doubted,” Link answers, looking at her beaming face. She runs down the corridor, coming to a halt in front of the shrine and taking in the room in which it resides. Her eyes latch onto the square in the floor, and she peeks into it, the gust of wind blowing her hair around like mad tendrils.

“What’s down there?” she asks, her voice being swept away by the gusts.

“That’s where I found the diamond circlet,” he says, coming up to stand beside her. He hovers, a hand outstretched just in case Zelda leans too far forward. “There are dormant Guardians, too.”

Her head snaps up to him. Her hand darts out and lands on his bracer. “Then we must go.”

There is something profoundly wild that happens inside Zelda’s eyes when she gets a whiff of a potential research project or an insight of new information or the possibility to collect data from an unknown place she has yet to experience. Once they get down into the sublevel, she’ll whip out the Sheikah Slate, take pictures of every nook and cranny she deems appropriately mysterious and worthy, and jot notes and questions for her to mull over later into her newly acquired research journal that Robbie had the good grace of lending before they set out this morning.

The scholar inside her is an untamed beast, and he sees its prominent fangs within her widened eyes, and he can feel it in her grip on his arm.

He nods his assent, and she releases him from her blazing stare. She glances back down the hole. “Shall I get on your back again?”

Link frowns, approximating the width of the hollow. It would be too dangerous to have her on his back, where he wouldn’t be able to protect her from the walls, if need be.

“No,” Link says, steeling himself for the inevitable. “It’ll be safer if you’re in front of me.”

Zelda looks up at him. “In front of you?” She’s puzzled for a moment, and he sees it when the realization dawns on her. “Oh. Yes. I suppose you’re right. It’s a bit…narrow.”

They glance at each other for a few long seconds. Link shifts his weight, keeping his face like stone. Zelda finally comes forward, and Link holds his arms out to his sides.

“So, it will be like…a hug?” she asks.

“Yes. Wrap your warms around my neck and your legs around my waist. Then we’ll jump in, and I’ll use the paraglider to soften our descent.”

She nods, moving closer and avoiding looking at his face.

She hasn’t looked at his face much for the entirety of the day—though, it is true that she’s been staring at the Slate most of it. But even in the early morning hours she seemed more guarded and evasive than he’s ever noticed before. Perhaps he shouldn’t have held her hand the night previous, he thinks. He didn’t realize at the time how improper it was, because of how automatic and natural his reactions were, but now he wonders if he had overstepped his boundaries. There is an intangible…oddness between them. It is much more prominent than from the days past, but Link is satisfied with ignoring it, for now.

She clambers onto him like a tree, her chin carefully perched into the hollow of his neck like a bird in a nest. He helps her adjust her legs around him, and he can’t help but think about her hips as they settle against him.

“Good?” she asks gently.

It’s a modest word. Link allows himself to blush without drowning in embarrassment.

“Fine,” he hears himself say. “Ready?”

She tightens up her limbs. “Ready.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s a short fall.”

He braces her briefly, and he jumps into the hole. He’s amazed when she doesn’t immediately shriek into him, but when he releases the paraglider before they land, she lets out a squeak with the force.

When they land, he helps balance her while she disentangles her limbs.

“Thanks,” she says, running a hand through her hair in a vain attempt to straighten out the knots. She gives up straightaway when her eyes catch onto their new surroundings. They get the hungry look in them once more. She reaches for the Slate and commences her ritualistic dissecting of the scenery.

Link watches her as she carries on, enjoying her onslaught, but unable to keep the tense restlessness outside of him. The phantom grip of apprehension sits on his shoulders, and he keeps his distance close, _just in case_ he sees movement. They are dead husks, and he is fully aware. He shut down the ones with the remaining energy, and there is not enough malice—if any at all—left to empower them to reawaken. Yet, still, this does not pacify him.

“Link,” she says, her hand coming up to touch the body of a dead Guardian. Her hand pauses before it comes into contact. “They’re all…lifeless?”

“As far as I know,” he says. “Yes.”

“I wonder…” she says, her hand finishing its trajectory, resting upon the machine. Her fingers splay across the hull. “Do you think it’s possible that we can bring them to life, again? I should have asked Robbie before we left, but…” she shakes her head. “I only just had the thought.”

“When we leave here, we can always ask him. There are also Rito in the area that will deliver a letter, if you’re inclined.”

“That’s an idea,” she says softly. “I’ll think on it. It may be too soon to…indulge my curiosity about the guardians in this way, but after hearing Robbie talk about his research, all of his creations veered to assist you and I, and the possibilities that are still shrouded in mystery…” Zelda closes her eyes, her chest heaving in a sigh. “I wonder if it’s a mad dream, now, to know everything about these wonderful, terrifying machines.”

“We can ask Robbie for his notes. You can study them while we travel,” Link offers, taking a step closer and watching her. She almost seems to glow, before he notices she _is_ glowing. It’s a faint outline, blurring the edge of her nose and the soft curves of her face, radiating down her arms. It would not be noticeable were it not for the dusty dimness of the room, lit only by the torches lining the walls several feet apart.

Link opens his mouth, but he thinks better of it. Her eyes remain closed, her eyebrows drawn taut above her eyes, and she’s quiet and still.

The back of her hand is shimmering, the shape of the triforce golden and hazy. It persists on her hand for a few, long seconds, before the radiant hue surrounding her fades completely. Her eyes open not long after, her breath short and shallow. She brings her hand to her chest, holding it in her other hand.

“Princess,” Link says, eyeing her. “Is everything alright?”

She frowns, biting the inside of her lip. “Yes. It’s alright. I think…” She glances up to the guardian in front of her, her eyes large and wide. “I think I know what residual power I’ve been left with. I’ve…I’ve been wondering. I’ve had strange sensations, almost like sparks of power that I can’t control. They’ve only started happening a few days ago, so I haven’t thought much about it.”

Link stares at her, a sudden thought running into his mind. “I think I’ve seen it, before.”

“What?” Zelda asks, surprised. “When?”

“At Zora’s Domain, when you touched the monuments.” Link tilts his head, looking at her hands thoughtfully. “It was…it felt like magic, when I was watching you. I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was—“ he stops.

_I thought it was your beauty_.

Was he _really_ going to say that?

“You thought it was what?” she asks.

He averts his eyes, turning his gaze up to the guardian. “I thought it was the light from the monument playing tricks,” he says slowly.

He feels Zelda’s stare on him, but he can’t make himself look at her. She’ll surely call him out on such a transparent lie, so he continues the conversation, nodding toward the guardian. “What did you feel?”

“Oh,” she says, glancing away from him and down to her hands. “It will sound strange—more than strange—but I think I felt its life. I felt, more than saw, glimpses from this guardian’s lifespan. I know how they got here, crawling up the walls of the labyrinth, the main purpose to remain stalwart protectors of the shrine. The hate that consumed them, the malice that obstructed their gears, and the time that took its toll on them. I felt their old spirit—their old light.” She looks up at him. “Perhaps you were right, Link. At Zora’s Domain, I did feel something from the stones of the monument. A kind of energy coming from the written words, and a rush of history. I…thought it was from my excitement, learning and recalling information from the written word.” She smiles demurely from the admittance, shaking her head. “This, however, was much more powerful than that.”

He takes in the information, and he watches her for a few moments. “Do you feel okay?”

She turns to him, blinking. “Oh, yes, of course. Thank you for your concern, but I feel enlightened more than anything. I am less confused about this as well, which is very helpful,” she says, smiling.

Link nods to her, and Zelda commences her exploration once more, looking intensely at all the gears, the rusting legs, the deadened eyes. She takes pictures with the Slate of everything and anything she touches. She doesn’t use her power again, and Link notices her glancing at her hand on occasion.

“You said you found the diamond circlet down here?”

“Yes,” Link says, coming around to the middle of the room. “Here, on this platform. Those guardians surrounding us were guarding it,” he explains, indicating around them.

Zelda stands beside him, looking around the room. Her face is a mantle as it holds onto a past worry, but she looks at him with levity. “Let me guess. You took them out unscathed?”

Link shrugs. “Of course.”

“Very modest, hero.”

They travel back up to the labyrinth soon after, once Zelda is satisfied with the information she’s gathered. Link is breathless when they land, and he stumbles a bit when she smiles up at him in thanks.

They head to the shrine next, and Link gives her the bad news that completing the exploration of the maze was the challenge and trial of the shrine. She still goes inside to observe the now barren platform where the monk used to be, taking a few pictures as it’s a “necessity” everywhere they go.

Before entering the labyrinth, they agreed upon Zelda using the Slate to travel back to Robbie’s doorstep, and Link would use his travel medallion and meet her. At the time, Zelda was all for it. Now, however, she looks cautiously down at the Slate in her hands. 

“You’re sure this will work?”

Link nods at her, fighting down his amusement. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s never failed me after all this time, and it will treat you just the same.”

“Will it…feel strange?”

“A little,” he answers. “It won’t be anything you can’t handle. You might be a bit dizzy when you land by Robbie’s doorstep, but nothing worse.”

“Okay,” she says. “I suppose I can handle that.”

Link smiles at her, gesturing to the map. “Tap on the Akkala Lab icon when you’re ready, and don’t worry. I’ll be there waiting for you.”

He hopes she isn’t too mad at him when he presses the medallion, his body swirling into a disembodied spiral of blue before coming to on the plains of Akkala.

She appears moments after, landing a few feet where he had pinned the medallion. Her cheeks are flushed, and she blinks rapidly.

“Link!” she says in a commanding tone, swaying.

“See?” he says, steadying her by placing his hands on her shoulders for a moment. “I told you.”

“You’re such a sneak!” she says, shaking her head and pushing an accusing finger into his chest. She then bursts out laughing. “That’s one way to make me do something.”

“I thought it might,” he answers, smiling at her. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” she says. “Not in the least.”

They smile at each other for a few seconds before Link gestures behind them. “Would you like to ask Robbie for his notes before we head out?”

Zelda voices her agreement, and they enter Robbie’s lab. Zelda asks him, explaining her curiosities about the guardians and the information he had gleaned over the years, and Robbie is only too happy to produce his journal notes and data.

“I can make copies, if you’d like,” Robbie offers, but Zelda declines and demonstrates that taking pictures would more than likely be the most convenient.

“I appreciate this very much, Robbie. These will keep me more than occupied during our journeying.”

Robbie grins. “Yes, of course! Do not hesitate to keep up correspondence, either, princess. Send me letters with any questions you may have, or any other answers you might come across in your travels. Your powers are very unique, and I would love to know what else you can glean from them.”

Zelda nods, smiling. “You don’t have to encourage my correspondence. In fact, I’m sure you’ll get sick of how many I send you.”

“I would never!” Robbie says, and Zelda graces him and Jerrin with a farewell hug. Link bows to both of them.

“Take care of her as usual, hero!” 

* * *

They head down the path toward the East Akkala stable, restocking on fruits and meats. Zelda eyes the Akkala buns that are on sale but does not suggest they buy any. Link takes the liberty, on impulse, and buys some of them for her regardless. He sneaks them into his pack without her notice, when her eyes catch on something else in the stable.

“Link,” she beckons. “Look. Have you read this? It’s a…Rumor Mill?”

Link glance over her shoulder. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Volume four.”

“You’ve read it?” she asks, then she shakes her head at herself before he can answer. “Oh, what am I saying? Of course, you have.”

“You know I like being thorough,” he says, shrugging. “This one is about falling stars. Did you know about them?”

“Hmm…” she says, glancing back at the entry. “I’m not sure…I’ve heard tall tales, but…” she trails off, reading under her breath.

“The stars spread out in the sky like a tapestry, and across that expanse, you see one streak of light—a shooting star. And I've heard that there is treasure waiting where these stars have landed. The next time you see one, why not track it down to see where it lands?” Zelda’s eyes grow in that intensely interested way that’s been nearly perpetual. “Recommendation is four out of five stars?”

“It’s just how interested Traysi is in the rumor. I think it’s mostly opinion. This rumor is true, however.”

Her eyes light on him. “You’ve tracked down a falling star?”

Link nods, and she grips his arm. “You must tell me! How did you find it? What do they do? How do you even go about tracking down a star…?”

Link smiles at her and motions outside. “I’ll tell you all about it when we make camp, later. I also think it would be reasonable withdraw two horses from the stable when we leave, unless you would rather continue on foot.”

He says it with an inflection of inquiry. Zelda nods. “I think horses are a great idea. If we travel south with the path around Death Mountain, we could visit Eldin Canyon and check on Vah Rudania and the Gorons…” She taps her chin with a finger, pulling out the Slate for reference. “Then after that, we could possibly make our way across to Tabantha and the Rito Village. What say you, Link? I think that’s a logical plan.”

Link hums in agreement. “Whatever you wish, princess.”

“First, though, let’s go to the—“ she glances down at the Slate. “The Katosa Aug shrine right over there!”

Zelda grasps his arm and tugs him along for a moment, and Link has no choice but to follow. Once they get inside and she observes the area, she immediately noses her way around. It doesn’t take her long to notice the console that controls the apparatus and the missing components. Link tells her there used to be spheres that would drop from the ceiling chute, and the swing was used for tapping it into the hole on the other side of the platform.

She fiddles with it a few times, making muffled “Oh” noises when she moves the swing around. “This is so interesting, Link! How is this console possibly connected to the swing? What type of energy makes it work? The same kind that works for the guardians and other contraptions, I would guess, but…” she sighs.

Link scratches the back of his neck. “That’s a great question. I didn’t even consider it when I did these trials.”

She eyes the sphere above the console, which is still twirling and tilting around with its orange light. “I should write about this to Robbie,” she says, and she raises the Slate to begin taking pictures.

Once they leave the shrine, the sun is a sleepy semi-circle on the horizon. It droops with a hazy, dulled yellow and orange and crimson.

“Sunset already,” Zelda notes as they begin to walk back toward the stable, and Link almost smiles at the disappointment in her voice. He can’t help the tease that he directs her way.

“If we hadn’t lasted all morning in that labyrinth, our day wouldn’t be over, yet.”

She turns her head quickly to look at him over her shoulder, puckering her lips in a show of mocking disdain.

“Excuse me if I like to be thorough, hero. I would have thought you’d understand, considering you’re so thorough, yourself.”

He smiles a little, raising a brow. “Thorough? I think lost is a more appropriate term.”

Her mouth opens in a shocked little ‘o’, and she steps forward to hit him on the shoulder. “Link! Don’t you dare! We were not lost. I was merely…discerning the intricacies of the labyrinth.”

Her cheeks are a dusky pink, and in the light of the sunset, it makes all her features seem… _more._ Link is not sure how to describe it. He does know, however, that he wants her to remain this way—pink and prideful, eyes alight with the challenge presented from his teasing.

“Those are fancy words, princess. I have to admit, I think you were _discerning_ the Slate for most of the time, not the labyrinth.”

“Ooooh,” she says, the sound a mix between a growl and a whine. “But weren’t you behind me the whole time? I _know_ you weren’t paying any attention to how much I was looking at the Slate, were you?”

It’s Link’s turn to blush at this claim, though Zelda has no idea of the real reason. He hopes not, in any case. However, the way her haughtiness transforms into mischievousness makes him unsure. He changes tactics.

“Ah, you _know_ , huh? Well, then, I guess that settles that.” He lifts his hands in a show of easy defeat.

Her triumphant grin falters, and she blinks. “Hey, that’s not fair!” she says once she realizes that he was going to tease no more. “You let me win!”

Incredibly amused, he looks over to her. “I didn’t think it would bother you.”

“I like winning fair and square,” she says, placing her hands on her hips, her chin tipping upward and rewarding him with a sly grin. “It makes it more fun to rub it in your face.”

“Mm,” he says, giving her a slight bow of his head. “I’ll remember that for next time, princess. And then I will forget about it.”

“Oh, Link!” she says good-naturedly, and then she laughs. 

“C’mon,” Link says, smiling. “Let’s set up camp. Or would you like to take a bed at the stable?”

“Can we camp out here? It’s such beautiful weather, and I really enjoy being outside.”

He nods. “Of course.”

They set up their camp not too far away from the stable, and they soon have a gentle fire blooming in the space. Link begins to pull out food items to place into the pot he sets across the fire pit.

“So…” Zelda starts, once they fold into their dinner. “Tell me about the shooting stars.”

Link mulls over them for a moment, swallowing a bite. “What do you know about them?”

Zelda lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing. Well, besides they occasionally fall across the sky. I didn’t realize you could…collect them?”

Link nods. “Yes, you can collect them. Sometimes, when stars fall, fragments fall, too. What doesn’t dissolve in the atmosphere makes its way onto land. And if you’re lucky, and you see one of these stars fall, you can track it down by following the beam of light it leaves in its wake. It only lasts so long before it disintegrates, so you have to be fast about it.” Link gestures to the Slate. “Fortunately, if I was able to judge where the star’s beam was shining from, I’d transport to the nearest shrine in the area, and I’d collect them before it was too late. They’re rare, so if I see one, I try to get them.”

Zelda hums, gazing into the fire. “I never knew about them,” she says softly. “How many have you collected?”

Link mentally totals up how many he’s used. “About ten, or so.”

Zelda’s throat bobs in a large gulp. “Ten? What in the world do you use them for?”

Link gives her a small grin.

“I use them to upgrade my armor.”

“Upgrade?” Zelda raises her brows. “How does that work?”

“You know the Great Fairies?”

Zelda gives a nod. “Yes, but I’ve never met one.”

Link holds back a grunt. “Don’t worry, you’re not missing out on anything,” he says, even though it seems this elevates Zelda’s interest by the way her face changes. He almost kicks himself. He should have thought before saying anything about them. Now they’ll have to _visit_ a Great Fairy, and he’s not sure how he feels about letting Zelda witness full-fledged molestation.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, the Great Fairies can upgrade armor if you have the right items for them to use. Star fragments are needed to enhance specific pieces of armor—so I went out to start to get as many as I could.”

“Oh, I see,” Zelda says, observing him over the fire. Her eyes are like combs, almost cat-like with how she looks over him. “Tell me, Link. Are you as passionate about upgrading armor as you are about food?”

He has noticed that Zelda is more perceptive than she lets on—at least, from what he can remember and what he’s observed so far. Yet, still, how did he give it away so easily? He opens his mouth for a moment, then sighs and says, “I admit, I can get a bit…obsessive about it.”

It is true. Once the Great Fairies had told him of their powers towards armor, Link’s interest was amplified. To say his feelings towards their incessant fondling of him, eying him like meat, and playing with him like a doll are not the most ideal, he swallowed his qualms (and increasing irritation) about them after the first enhancement.

It’s not that he _needs_ the upgrades. To avoid sounding cocky and arrogant, Link doesn’t think the upgrades necessarily help him, as they do support his already honed abilities. He is, after all, the hero of legend. He knows his swordsmanship surpasses all in Hyrule. But the satisfaction of upgrading, and knowing he is even stronger, and better, and reaching a full, unrealized potential is unequivocal to anything else. He likes—no—loves being the best, fondling be damned.

“How did you know?” he asks.

Zelda smiles devilishly at him. “I had a feeling.”

How well she knows him also never fails to surprise, even though it shouldn’t.

“Well, yes, princess. I love the satisfaction that comes with improving all the items that I have, and being at my best,” he says.

“Sounds about right,” she says, giving him a smile. “And these Great Fairies, are they as beautiful as I’ve heard in stories? Or are they like ugly witches?”

Link feels an uncomfortable spike filling his stomach—more than likely due to the fact that when he imagines the Great Fairies, all that he can really recall are their gigantic bosoms forcibly smashed into his face.

“They’re beautiful…in their own way,” Link cautions. “They’re otherworldly, ethereal, and very…” he pauses. “Large.”

Zelda makes a noise. “That sounds a bit like the stories. Are they twenty feet tall?”

“Give or take a few feet,” Link says. “They have a very overwhelming presence, and personalities that match their size. Some are eccentric, some loud and a bit off-kilter.”

He watches as Zelda nods, half a smirk developing on her lips. “I’ve also heard that they’re very…demanding, and that they are very partial to Hylian men.” She glances up to him. “Is that true?”

Her eyes are assaulting in the fire light. It reminds him of the night previous.

He clears his throat, looking down at his empty plate. To busy himself, he rummages through his pack for a few apples. “They’re very lonely. They don’t get many visitors, so when they do, they go a little…” Link pulls out a few apples and places them in the pot. “Crazy, I guess, for lack of better word.”

“So,” Zelda draws out. “They are partial? I’ve heard some men have been so drawn by their beauty that they enter their fountains, never to return to their villages. Or that the Fairies take them prisoner to…satisfy their needs.”

Link sees Zelda avoid his eyes when she utters the statement. Then he furrows his brow. “That sounds a little extreme. The Fairies let you go—they don’t keep you, and they definitely don’t keep you prisoner if that’s not what you want.” He shrugs. “I could see some men staying of their own accord, though. The Fairies can be persuasive and flattering.”

Zelda gives him a funny smile. “Have they tried to tempt you to stay with them, hero?”

For whatever reason, this makes Link blush again. He tries to make light of it. “A time or two,” he says. “It’s because of my undeniable charm.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Zelda says blithely.

Link shakes his head. “It’s because I’m a repeat customer.” He voluntarily avoids telling her that they think he’s _adorable_ , not charming, because that’s a bit of a blow to his ego, and he has a particular feeling that she’ll laugh at that.

“If that’s what you believe,” Zelda says. “I’d like to meet one if we come across one along our travels.”

Link attempts to hold back a grimace and fails. “Sure, princess. There’s one around Kakariko Village, and Tabantha, and in Gerudo Valley. We can go to one of those.”

“Hm, actually,” Zelda says, pulling out the Slate. Link nearly groans. “There’s one just south of us…” she glances up to him. He swears she’s holding back a smile, and he narrows his eyes at her in suspicion. “But it _is_ out of the way,” she relents. “We can go to one of the other ones you mentioned. I wouldn’t want to cause you any undue stress so soon.”

_Then_ she starts to laugh. Link sighs, partly in relief and partly at her.

“You’re terrible,” he says, giving her a small grin.

“You made it too easy,” she laughs. “I didn’t think Fairies were going to get you so flustered.”

Link nearly splutters. “Flustered? I’m not flustered. I just get…uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“Right,” Zelda says, smirking wide. “Flustered.”

“This is sounding like that “thorough” and “lost” discussion from earlier…”

“Oh, does it?” she says, raising a brow. “I agree to disagree, hero.”

Link shakes his head, taking the simmered apples off the pot. He comes around the fire and serves Zelda a plate, sitting beside her.

“Whatever, Zelda. I get _uncomfortable_ because the Fairies tend to be…handsy.”

Zelda takes the plate from him happily. “Handsy? How so?”

Link shrugs. “You’ll see when we get to Tabantha. Or Gerudo. Or Kakariko. But not,” he emphasizes, “all three.”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I’ll get the full affect unless we go to all three.”

Link gives her a look so dry, she chokes out a laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding. One is fine.” She pauses, taking a bite of the apples. She hums in delight, and Link wonders why he decided to sit so close to her. Her lips become glossy and sticky with the sugar she eats, and it’s somewhat mesmerizing. “But, if they make _you_ uncomfortable, then _I’m_ thorough.”

“As you wish, princess,” he says.

They finish their dessert in silence, Link unable to stop stealing glances at her, while her boot occasionally touches his own. They stay like that long after they’re done, watching and waiting for the fire to run its course. All the while, the silence pervades them, and it is natural, comfortable and cozy, in a way that Link had not fully expected to happen so soon.  

Link wonders about this, too. It seems he is constantly surprised by their interactions, though he knows there is no reason for it. While his body is physically adapted to her presence, his mind is not quite there, and it’s a strange juxtaposition when he wants their hands to linger near each other and protect and shield, while his brain constantly parrots about impropriety and confused feelings that are mixed with the absence of memories.

She eventually yawns and stands, bidding him goodnight and folding into her bed roll. Link stays beside the fire for a few more minutes, and he tries to determine if his attraction to Zelda is a common thread between the times of old and the present. If it is, it will give Link some peace of mind—a kind of foothold toward where he wants to be.

As he begins to succumb to sleep, however, in the world between wakefulness and unconsciousness, he realizes that he’s always wanted to linger near her—even when she slammed the door after he brought her cake.


	7. vii. In which Zelda and Link arrive in Goron City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for such lovely comments. I could probably live off of them.

The next morning, they decide on following the southwestern path into the Akkala Highlands. Zelda mentioned the Rist Peninsula again, still curious about it, but was disappointed when Link told her they would only be walking in a circle until arriving to a shrine that had the identical insides as the one at the labyrinth.

 

Instead, as they consume breakfast, Link tells her about the trial along the peninsula, which consisted of carrying an orb to the plate of the shrine while avoiding octorocks and moblins.

 

“That sounds easy,” Zelda says.

 

“It wasn’t bad. More annoying than anything. I think octorocks are my least favorite monsters.”

 

Zelda’s lips quirk at him. “You have a favorite monster?”

 

“Sure I do,” Link answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“Which one?”

 

He gives her a playful look. “Guess.”

 

“Hmm…” she says, tapping her chin. “It’s not Ganon, is it?”

 

“No, not Ganon.”

 

“Um.. guardians?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Hinox?”

 

“No.”

 

“Lizalfos?”

 

“Not those, either.”

 

Zelda frowns. After a moment, it hits her. “Oh!” she exclaims. “Lynels?”

 

He smiles at her. “Those are the ones.”

 

Zelda’s grin falls into a grimace. “Why? They’re terrifying and probably the most ferocious fiends…” she stops herself, then shakes her head. “Never mind. I know why they’re your favorite.”

 

“They’re the most challenging. And fun,” he adds. “I love a challenge.”

 

“You’re the only person I know who would insist that fighting a Lynel is fun.”

 

The smile he gives her is shamelessly cheeky. She loves it.

 

Link brings the horses around, and they begin their trek not long after. They follow the path along the grassy, rolling knolls of the highlands, the sunrise feeding the autumnal colors that weave around them.

 

Zelda feels a certain intimacy with this western part of Akkala. She had spent a good deal of time travelling to and fro from the castle to the Spring of Power, as well as the Spring of Courage, in her attempts to unlock the force within her. She remembers kneeling in the waters, spending endless hours in prayer. Then she thinks about the years of doubt she had, reinforced by the silence of the gods. She wondered if it all was a cruel joke, the line of power skipping her generation entirely. With her mother passing, and with her father being her King first, it made all the doubts that much darker and insidious.

 

She looks off to the right after a while. She can just see the edge of the Spring of Power if she squints.

 

“Would you like to take a detour?” Link asks. It breaks her thought, and she turns her head to look at him. He gestures in the direction she was looking.

 

“Oh,” she says. “No, that’s alright. Just lost in memory, is all.”

 

It’s quiet for a few minutes. Link continues conversation, in the slow way that is solely his own.

 

“You left me a memory there.”

 

Zelda smiles wryly. “Yes. It was not one of my best moments.”

 

“Perhaps not,” he concedes. “It did show me a lot about you. Several memories you left me did, in fact.”

 

She opens her mouth. “I…yes. I thought they were insightful to both of our characters, along with the emotions inside the memories. I was more at peace with myself once I unlocked my powers, so deciding on the memories I did was not as difficult as it may have been without them.”

 

Link seems thoughtful, but he keeps his eyes on their surroundings. He is ever the soldier, instincts preying on their safety. “How would having your powers lessened the difficulty, princess?”

 

Zelda hesitates, putting her thoughts together. “It would have been hard for me to choose the uglier memories—the ones of my struggles and hardships—without having any of the powers to show for them, and especially since you were going to be the recipient of these memories.”

 

She’s had his full attention during the conversation, but she feels the heat of his eyes on her, now. “Why _especially_ because of me?”

 

Zelda swallows. Her and her big mouth. Good thing she can think quickly. She’s always thought that was one of her best traits. “Because you’re the hero, and because you’re my friend. I had to place the status of your title above our friendship, because the well-being of Hyrule was more important. I couldn’t distract you or bombard you with all of the pictures I had taken of acquaintances and friends. I…thought that would have been more unfair to you had I kept dozens of pictures that meant little, rather than a dozen that held weight.”

 

She heaves a breath, looking up and making their eye contact linger. It’s been harder and harder to look at him without falling into the trap of staring. Goddess, ever since he held her hand, it’s almost as if she can’t keep it together. Not to mention the day before, when she wrapped her entire body around all of him in the labyrinth. She nearly had a heart attack.

 

Link eventually nods, his eyes impossibly blue against the yellows and reds of the background behind him. “What other…meaningful pictures did you take that I would possibly recognize now?” His look softens. “I’m sure you had favorites.”

 

Her stomach twists. Yes, she did have favorites. She had snuck pictures of him, certainly. She had caught him sleeping, the determined furrow of his brow smoothed and gone in the clutches of peaceful sleep. She had taken a picture of them together. He even smiled once for her camera when she asked him to _please_ _humor_ _her_.

 

She had other pictures, too. Pictures from her bedroom window, extraneous pictures of scenery from their journeying together, different vegetation, a picture or two of the other champions when they weren’t aware.

 

But her favorite…her ultimate favorite.

 

“My favorite memory,” she says. “It was when you saved me.”

 

Link frowns, the lines around his mouth deepening. “Why that one?”

 

Zelda laughs aloud. “Isn’t it obvious? It changed everything. You became a comrade, and it finally changed my selfish, naïve thoughts about wanting to keep you my enemy.” She shakes her head. “It paved the way to you becoming my closest friend. It was an…invaluable moment.”

 

She watches Link think about this, and they carry on in silence for a few minutes. “It was,” he says. “I agree it was invaluable. Who knows where we’d be if you hadn’t changed your mind.” At this, he blesses her with one of his brief, full grins. Zelda blushes, but she reacts by shaking her head at him and rolling her eyes.

 

“Forgive me for asking this,” he continues. “What’s your least favorite? I don’t mean to dampen the mood but I’m…curious.”

 

Zelda smiles. “No, it’s quite alright. I’ve had one hundred years to settle my emotions on them, Link, so there is no forgiveness needed. But for my least favorite, there are…many to choose from.

 

“Before Ganon, I would have said I had more than one, but I’ve been able to make peace with many things over the hundred years. It’s a blessing, even if it is always bittersweet. While Ganon killed the champions and my father and so many others, I will always bear the burden of being part of the reason for their deaths. Yet, I have been graced with their forgiveness, and while that makes peace easier, it doesn’t make missing them any less.” Zelda pauses, pursing her lips in thought. After a few contemplative minutes, she says, “I think, collectively, I don’t have a least favorite memory in so much that I wish I had more memories. More specifically, I wish I had more memories of my father that weren’t so harsh…or critical. Even when I tried to have normal conversations, it would always lead back to my powers and prayer and the absolute need to try harder.” She blinks, and she feels her eyes develop a fog. She looks away from him, down at the bridle of her horse. She fingers the leather, focusing on the action instead of her words. “It seems that when my mother died, I lost them both. I maintained a King, a ruler, but not a father. It was out of my hands, but…I regret how our interactions played out from there on after.”

 

She feels Link’s eyes on her, still, and she wishes for a reprieve in the moment. She’s been emotional in front of him before, but only in the moments under passionate desperation. She’s never been emotional in such a calm, lackadaisical environment, with nothing dire or overcast on their spirits.

 

He looks ahead after a minute, and Zelda feels a palpable relief. She’s surprised at what he says next.

 

“When I went to the castle to find the recipes, I found your father’s study. I’m not sure if you knew this, but he’s a lot like you with his journaling habits.”

 

Zelda blinks a few times, glancing up at him. Her heart tightens. “What?”

 

Link smiles at her. “Yeah. He kept a journal, much like you kept a diary and research notes. He talked about the prophecy, your mother’s passing, forcing you into training. I hope it…consoles you that he also regretted your interactions. It hurt him to scold you, especially with all the pressure that you already had to endure. He wanted to be your father, but he knew that it was more important for you to awaken your powers and fulfill the prophecy even if you came to despise him.” His face softens as he talks. “He was not going to be angry after the Spring of Wisdom. If we had come back, he was going to be encouraging, and he was going to let you pursue what you wanted. After ten years, he wanted to make things…better between the two of you, even if it did turn out to be too little too late. But you must know, Zelda,” he says, and this forces her to breathe, “he loved you. He loved you very much, even if he was hard on you, and didn’t listen to you. He made me angry at times, too,” he says. “But even then, it didn’t mean that he didn’t cherish you.”

 

Zelda can imagine the journal in his study, lying untouched for so many years, holding all the thoughts he would never tell her. The image tightens her throat, clumping together any words that want to reach her mouth.

 

She remembers his spirit, too, during her stalemate with Ganon. Her father’s warmth, feeding her with love when she felt the overwhelming bouts of fatigue. Soft, rumbling words of encouragement. Brief mentions that he was there for her. His pride and his belief in what she would do.

 

She had hoped that he had loved her in some form, from afar, perhaps, even if she hated him at times, and even if she was so frustrated at him shutting her out and never listening to what she had to say. She always thought it was like talking to a wall—insurmountable, unfeeling, apathetic. To know, now, with certainty, that it was just as hard on him as it was on her gives her a clarity about her father. And in that, she feels a kinship she has never felt.

 

To think that she thought he had come to despise her—reminding him to much of their mother, maybe, and not fulfilling her duty to unlock her powers. Thinking his disappointment was too great to ever love her.

 

It seems so silly, now. So naive, so short-sighted.

 

The tears begin to fall freely. Zelda attempts to hide them, but it’s in vain.

 

“I thought perhaps, if you’d like, we could go to the castle and...” Link trails, and she hears him inhale. “I apologize, princess, I didn’t mean...I thought this might be happier news.”

 

“Oh,” Zelda breathes, his words pulling a light laugh out of her. “It _is_ happy news. I didn’t realize my father felt that way. I didn’t know much about him, you know.” She takes another breath, wiping roughly at her eyes. “I thank you, Link, for telling me this. From the depths of my heart.”

 

Link tips his head at her in a sort of bow, looking at her with the same soft gaze. “Of course, Zelda. I would have told you sooner, had I known.”

 

She smiles at him as best she can, though she’s sure it’s a bit watery.

 

“Not at all, Link. And to answer your question, yes, if we’re in the neighborhood of the castle...I wouldn’t mind finding his journal and taking it with us.”

 

He nods at her, and they lock eyes. She looks away, grasping onto her reigns.

 

They carry on until they arrive at the South Akkala stable, pausing their travels to search through the Ze Kasho shrine nearby. Link let’s her experiment as she goes, her leading the way for them—except when they get to the room with the lasers. Link gets a bit overbearing, coaching her on the timing, and detonating the bomb on the crystal to avoid being hit by the lasers.

 

Zelda equally enjoys and hates the next apparatus, trying and failing multiple times to get the orbs in the right positions. Once, she throws the apparatus controls up in frustration, and one of the orbs flies out of the box. Link gives her an amused look, and she blows the hair out of her eyes.

 

“Here,” he says, coming up behind her. She immediately stills when she feels his heat on her back. He is suddenly close. His hands come up and places them on hers, guiding her with the controls, and his presence surrounds her entirely. “You want to nudge them in the right places, first.” He begins to place a gentle pressure on her fingers, and Zelda is certain that her palms are sweating. There’s a humorous tone in his voice when he says, “You have to use all that _patience_ you have with this one.”

 

“Ha-ha,” she tries, and it comes out more like a high-pitched squeak.

 

The platform tilts, and the orbs move to the top. Link’s hands move them to where they’re right above the switches. He does it like it’s _easy._ It’s hardly fair.

 

“And then you slowly lower,” he says, the words lingering around the cage of her ear. She suppresses a shudder.

 

“Okay,” she whispers. His hands press into her fingers, and the orbs drop into their places with an ease she was unable to achieve alone.

 

“Just like that, see? Not so bad.”

 

He takes his hands off and steps back. The loss of his warmth leaves a chill behind on her neck.

 

Link clears his throat, gesturing to the empty platform above them. “That would have opened the gate to the monk and the spirit orb.”

 

Zelda looks over him. His cheeks are a little flushed, and—she thinks—it may be possible that he’s just as affected by her as she is by him.

 

It’s a fanciful thought, but…a girl can dream. She immediately wonders what his reaction would have been if she had turned to face him while he was helping with the controls, stomach to stomach, chest to chest. Zelda’s not completely sure what _her_ reaction would have been.

 

“It’s not as easy for normal people,” Zelda says.

 

Link’s mouth quirks. “Normal people? You’re a princess. If you want to get technical, queen would probably be more appropriate...”

 

Zelda holds up a hand, shushing him. “Sure, I was a princess a hundred years ago, and sure, I’m not the most normal—but you’re the hero. So I digress. Things like this are easy for you.”

 

Link shakes his head at her, but his face is full of humor. “Whatever, Zelda.”

 

They leave soon after, making their way through the last dregs of Akkala. The Akkala Tower and Citadel passes by at their left, and Zelda can make out the bridge ruins and the parade grounds as they pass over them along the still upheld bridge span. The views leave a melancholic taste in her mouth. Where they are now barren and broken, the Citadel and parade grounds used to be teeming with life. She remembers it vividly.

 

Now, it’s ghostly. It’s a battered battlefield. She is glad, in a selfish, convenient way, that she does not know the intimate specifics of the destruction.

 

They make their way around the mountains that encase Zora’s Domain, passing through familiar scenery from a few weeks before. At the crossroads in the path along the Ternio Trail, they follow the north route towards the Foothill Stable. Once they arrive, Link immediately goes to stock up on fireproof elixirs, and Zelda posts up their horses before settling around the cooking pot for a quick lunch.

 

After eating meat and some fruit, Zelda is immensely surprised when Link takes out two Akkala buns from the pack.

 

“I didn’t know you bought these!” she says.

 

Link smiles a little, and Zelda internally describes it as equal parts bashful and adorable. “I saw you admiring them.”

 

His answer is factual and succinct, as usual, but the words are very thoughtful. Warmth floods Zelda’s stomach.

 

“Thank you, Link. That was very sweet of you.”

 

He shrugs. “I assumed you weren’t going to say anything, so I took the liberty to buy them.”

 

Zelda takes a delicate bite, closing her eyes. It tastes like childhood.

 

“I used to get these when I traveled to the Spring of Power when I was younger. They were a source of comfort after spending so many hours kneeling and praying, and then hoping those hours meant something,” she says.

 

Link considers this. “I’ll buy more next time.”

 

She laughs. “Oh, Link, that’s not what I meant.”

 

He only shakes his head. “I didn’t mean for you,” he says. “I meant for _me_.” He then gives her a big smirk. She rolls her eyes at him.

 

“I can’t believe you only bought two.”

 

“I wasn’t thinking. They’re hardly filling.”

 

“Says the guy who scales mountains for fun.”

 

“And who escorts princesses.”

 

“Your life is very difficult, isn’t it?”

 

“More than you can imagine.”

 

“Mm,” she hums, and a thought strikes her. “We could always relax for a moment in the Goron Hot Springs. For a reprieve from your very difficult life.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind that, princess.” Link tips his head towards her. “Have you been to the Hot Springs?”

 

Zelda thinks on this for a moment. “I believe only once, before my mother passed. It’s a very distant memory, but it’s a happy one, and I remember enjoying it, if nothing else.”

 

Link nods. “You’ll enjoy it again. It’s hard not to.”

 

Before they set off to the Maw of Death Mountain, Zelda once again drags Link to the shrine settled a stone’s throw away from the stable.

 

The Mo’a Keet Shrine contains a lot of large, stone balls rolling down very steep ramps. Link points out the pathway to get to the monk on the top left platform, and he almost begins explaining the shrine to her before she shushes him and walks toward the opening of the first ramp. Link is close behind, and she belatedly realizes that he’s hovering once more. He hasn’t hovered so closely since the Ne’ez Yohma shrine in Zora’s Domain when she had to climb ice cubes, and it’s not that she minds the proximity in the least, but it makes her wonder why he would suddenly revert to the old ways.

 

Zelda turns to him before she steps into the entrance of the ramp, and Link stops with such an abrupt force that she can see his entire body jerk an inch away from her.

 

“Link,” she begins. “Why are you so close?”  

 

He glances from her to the entrance. A stone ball flies out at break-neck speed. Zelda looks on with comprehension, then feels a bit silly she didn’t realize before.

 

Link explains regardless. “I’d rather you not be rolled over.”

 

Zelda snorts. “Trust me, Link. I’m not going to let myself be rolled over.”

 

He merely shrugs and remains a hairs-breadth away. “I trust you, but I won’t take any chances.”

 

Zelda sighs loudly, but Link’s face is stoic and devoid of any lightness or humor. She’s seen this look on his face more than enough times to know that he’s strictly in guardian mode.

 

“Alright,” she relents. “I _will_ be careful.”

 

He looks over her. “I know.”

 

The intense look in his eyes gives her pause. She nearly folds altogether and hands him the Slate before she shakes herself out of it and promptly attempts to ignore her attraction.

 

“Okay,” she says loudly and unnecessarily, holding up the Slate while trying to decide on her next course of action. She selects Stasis after a few moments of deliberation, and she hears a noise of approval from Link that she wouldn’t have heard was he not so close. Hearing it gives her a deep flush of pride, and then she rolls her eyes at herself. _Keep it together, Zelda._

 

The rest of the shrine goes mostly without a hitch. Link scoots Zelda over once or twice when she isn’t paying attention to her footing or her bodily placement, but otherwise, Zelda knows she could have done it without him breathing down her neck and being so distracting.

 

“See, I would have been fine,” she says after they leave the shrine.

 

Link only gives her a look and states, “Of course, you would have.”

 

She opens her mouth again before she accepts the fact that the argument would be futile. She can’t exactly say that he was her sole distraction—so she closes her mouth and ends the discussion by shaking her head at him. He looks a bit smug at her silence, underneath his still stoic exterior.

 

They board the horses at the stable, owing to the fact that the horses wouldn’t do well in the heat of Eldin, before setting off for the Maw. Link warns her about possible red chuchus and fire keese along the path, and he advises her to drink an elixir as they get closer and closer towards the heat of the volcanoes. Zelda dutifully complies when Link tells her to pause in their trek and fights off the few chuchus that appear seemingly from the cracks in the rocks. He passes her a flask of fireproof elixirs every few minutes to drink. It’s surprisingly not unpleasant, but it leaves behind such an odd and interesting sensation, keeping her skin cool and impervious to the hot, stinging air around them. A flake of glowing ash lands on her arm, and she doesn’t notice it until they reach the Southern Mines—and she’s not even sure how long it had been there. Fascinated, Zelda can’t help but wonder aloud how this could be possible, and how the components work together to make the body feel as if it’s no hotter than 75 degrees when the air is so dry and hot, it would naturally scald their skin and burn their hair.

 

“I would love to experiment with the different types of elixirs…like the hot-footed frog elixirs you use, Link. Along with the others I’m sure you use, as well.”

 

“Will I be part of these experiments?” Link asks.

 

“Of course,” she says, making sure to smile sweetly at him. “Who else would agree to being a research project?”

 

She notices his eye catching on her mouth for a moment before he looks ahead and continues on the path. “Fair point, princess.”

 

Zelda forgets how many inclines and rocky climbs there are in Eldin, and even with the miracle of the fireproof elixir, she finds her feet aching and her entire body sweating from the exertion. Link, she notes with utter envy, is not out of breath with any of the more arduous climbing. Thinking about how the hot springs will feel on her feet makes it a bit more bearable.

 

Once they arrive in Goron City, they meet with the Goron City boss, Bludo, to touch bases and ask about Vah Rudania. He is unexpectedly excited to see Link and claps him on the back. Zelda holds in a laugh when Link nearly topples to the ground from the force.

 

When Link introduces Zelda, the Goron gives her a full-bodied scan. Usually, this kind of attention would make Zelda uncomfortable, but the Goron’s once over is innocent and openly interested. After a moment, he gives a deep, booming laugh.

 

“Ah, I see! Link used the guardian’s power, defeated Ganon, and immediately took up a woman!” Bludo holds his belly as he guffaws. “Come to take her to the hot springs, eh, boy? He’s a clever one. You made a good choice,” he tells Zelda as an aside.

 

He reminds her so much of a grandpa that Zelda has to grin, whereas if anyone else had said this aloud to her, she’d probably be on the floor, dying of embarrassment. Glancing at Link’s pink face makes her chuckle, and it emboldens her seeing that Link is _finally_ showing some outward embarrassment toward someone assuming their relationship status.

 

“Yes, that’s exactly where we’re going! How did you know?” Zelda says, playing along.

 

Bludo looks at her, humor glittering in his eyes. “Why, the hot springs are a natural aphrodisiac. It rejuvenates and boosts your energy. Honeymooners from all around come to stay in Eldin specifically for the springs.”

 

At this, Link looks absolutely horrified. Zelda covers her mouth to hold back her snickering.

 

“Oh, I see,” Zelda begins after containing her mirth. “Now I know his intentions for bringing me here.”

 

“Actually,” Link cuts in, face now resembling a sunburn. “The _main_ reason we came was to check on Vah Rudania.”

 

He catches her eye, and she smirks at him. He gives her an imperceptible shake of his head, his eyes giving her a light glare, and she almost laughs again.

 

“Ah, if you say so, my boy,” Bludo says. “It’s still up on the mountain, dormant and still after Ganon was defeated. It should be just like you found it after you left it.”

 

Link bows his head. “Thank you. Is Yunobo around? I’d like to see him.”

 

“He’s probably helping with errands around the city. I can send for him, and he’ll be here tonight.”

 

“That sounds great,” Link says, and they depart shortly after.

 

“Who’s Yunobo?” Zelda asks, once they leave Bludo’s home, walking up the ramp toward the Stolock Bridge.

 

“Yunobo is Daruk’s descendant. He helped me settle Vah Rudania down when I was here, before. He’s a good kid, you’ll like him.”

 

Zelda’s heart brightens at this. “Oh, Daruk’s descendant! I can’t wait to meet him. Does he remind you of Daruk?”

 

Link thinks about this for a moment. “In some ways. He’s not as confident, and he lets his fears over take him at times, but he’s still very young. He’s charismatic. That’s what reminds me of Daruk the most.”

 

“Does he call you ‘little guy’?”

 

Link laughs briefly at this. “No, not yet. We’ll see if he gets into the habit.”

 

They stop at the Shae Mo’sah shrine once they come upon it, and Zelda is pleased (and also strangely disappointed—but mostly pleased) to note that Link doesn’t breathe down her neck the whole time she winds her way through it, from the beginning switches, to clumsily handling the bow. Link helps her with it, ending up shooting arrows where she dictates. 

 

“That was fun,” Zelda says, once she finishes up. “There were so many ways you could have solved that one.”

 

“I agree,” Link says. “You got really creative with the Slate. I mostly used bombs. I didn’t think about using stasis during any of it.”

 

“Oh,” Zelda says. “Thank you.”

 

Link smiles at her. The flames around them become twenty degrees hotter.

 

”You’ll have to teach me the correct technique with the bow,” she says. “I’d like to be able to use one. In my family’s history, the bow and arrow was something several of my ancestors were adept with.”

 

“Of course, princess. Whenever we get back out onto open plains, I’ll teach you. Just say the word.”

 

”That sounds wonderful,” she says.

 

“We’ll come up on the Hot Springs soon,” Link says. “Would you like to begin our honeymoon now or after Vah Rudania?”

 

He shocks a laugh out of her. “Oh, I don’t know, dear, what would you like to do?”

 

Link shakes his head, but he seems in much better humor about it than previously. “I honestly didn’t realize the Hot Springs were considered such a…popular spot.”

 

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I think he was mostly teasing you.”

 

“Yeah, _mostly.”_

“Well, he’s reacted like 99% of the people we’ve come across. I’m surprised you were caught off guard.”

 

Link rubs the back of his head. “I wasn’t prepared for the, ah, information about the Hot Springs. That’s all.”

 

“Hm, I see,” she says, feeling the need to tease him again. “I guess we’ll figure out if the Hot Springs really are as exhilarating as Bludo says.”

 

Link blushes at this, and Zelda is staggeringly delighted by it.

 

“Sure, princess,” he mumbles, and he carries on stone-faced as they pass over the Stolock Bridge.

 

They decide to forego the Springs for now, as Zelda thinks it’ll relax her too much and she’ll stay in the Springs for the rest of the day if they stop.

 

As they make their way closer and closer to Vah Rudania, Zelda starts to become more aware of the suffocating heat of the volcano. The elixirs are still working like a charm, but the air is thicker and slightly hotter, and Zelda can feel the slithers of sweat trickling down her back.

 

“If you need,” Link says suddenly. “I have armor that’s made to specifically resist the heat, here. It doesn’t help anymore than the elixirs, but it might help with the sweating.”

 

His generosity knows no bounds, nor does his uncanny ability to read her. Zelda smiles at him. “Thank you, but I don’t mind it. The elixirs are just fine.”

 

“Alright,” he nods. “But if you change your mind, they’re here if you want them.”

 

“I appreciate that, Link.”

 

They continue on until they are at the base of the volcano. Vah Rudania is in plain sight from their viewing field, perched along the rocks with its head closed. It’s almost as if it’s sleeping and peaceful after the victory of battle.

 

They’re surprised to find another Goron there, as well, staring up at Vah Rudania. He’s in such a stupor that he doesn’t realize they’re there until Link greets him.

 

“Yunobo,” Link says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

Yunobo gives a comic start, spinning around to face them.

 

“Oi! Link! You’re back in Goron City! Great to see you,” he grins at them before turning back to look up. “I was just admiring the Beast. Ever since The Calamity disappeared, Vah Rudania has become so still and quiet. I like to come and see him, sometimes, and think about Daruk and what he accomplished even after his death.” He brings a fist to his chest. “It really pulls at the heart, you know.”

 

Link nods. “I know. I think about it all the time.” Link tips his head to Zelda. “Yunobo, this is Zelda. Her...ancestor also knew Daruk. Zelda, Yunobo.”

 

Zelda smiles widely, pleased at Link’s choice of explanation. She hadn’t thought of how to greet Yunobo before, and it’s a safe enough lie. 

 

“Hi, Yunobo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Yunobo blushes immediately. “Oh, ah — yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

 

“I’ve heard a lot about Daruk from my family. He was a very wonderful, brave Goron. I’m happy to see his family is still thriving, alive and well.”

 

“Um, uh, yes, thank you. He was a pretty amazing guy. I want to be just like him, as I grow older.”

 

“I’m sure it runs in the family,” she emphasizes, and Yunobo blushes even more.

 

“I—I appreciate that, Miss Zelda.”

 

“Oh, just Zelda. No ‘miss’.”

 

“Oh, sorry about that…Zelda.”

 

“Not at all, Yunobo. I was thinking about visiting the inside of Vah Rudania, but he’s so peaceful. I’m not sure I want to disturb him.” She looks over to Link. “What do you think?”

 

“It’s your call, Zelda,” Link says. “There’s nothing alarming, and he seems as peaceful as Vah Ruta when we saw her.”

 

Zelda has to agree. Vah Ruta had been perched on her mountain, overlooking all of Zora’s Domain, quiet and pristine and glowing happily in the sunlight. Vah Rudania is the picture of serenity, scalding and heated metal, right at home in the heart of Death Mountain.

 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still, I’m happy for it. It seems for now that Zora’s Domain and Eldin Canyon are unhindered and unburdened—as they should all be,” Zelda says, clasping her palms together in front of her chest. “I’m sure Daruk would have loved to throw you up in the air one last time, Link, for winning.”

 

Link smiles at that. “No offense to Daruk, but I’m glad he can’t throw me up, again.”

 

“Daruk used to throw you, Link?” Yunobo asks excitedly. “I love throwing things, too!”

 

“That’s not an invitation to start, Yunobo,” Link deadpans, and Zelda snorts.

 

“Between you and me,” Zelda says to Yunobo. “I think Daruk would be _thrilled_ if you continued the tradition.”

 

Zelda feels Link’s eyes on her, and she catches his heated stare. She smiles sweetly at him.

 

Yunobo looks between them both. “You think so, ma’am? I mean, Zelda?”

 

“Oh,” she says. “I _know_ so.”

 

“Zelda…” Link says, and she can hear a warning in his tone. She absently wonders what he would possibly do to her—if anything at all, besides relentless teasing. Which is something he already does, anyway.

 

Yunobo nervously smiles, looking a mite uncomfortable. “O-okay, I’ll definitely take up that tradition…the next time I see Link.”

 

Link seems relieved, and Zelda pouts.

 

“But—“ Zelda tries, but Link interrupts.

 

“It seems like it’s time to go to the Hot Springs, don’t you think?”

 

Zelda opens her mouth, but she sighs and rolls her eyes. “Alright, Link. But only because my feet are killing me.”

 

“Sure, Zelda.”

 

Link smiles triumphantly, and Zelda has a sudden ice cold fear of what thoughts the Hot Spring will provoke in her.

 

Surely nothing she hasn’t already had before, she thinks. Then that thought alone embarrasses her. But it shouldn’t. Bludo was just teasing, she reminds herself. And besides, even if the Hot Springs are a natural aphrodisiac, it doesn’t mean anything more than what she already feels. With the exception of her title, power, and birthright, Zelda is just a normal, Hylian woman. Every other warm-blooded woman would have the same…slightly un-princesslike thoughts that she has, sometimes. Especially if other Hylian women were witness to Link’s constant swordplay practice outside of her room, along the bridge connecting her chambers and her study. It was certainly maddening, oddly provoking, and incrementally rousing each time she would secretly watch him from her window.

 

He does it on purpose, she would think, each time she’d catch him in the early morning hours after her devotional prayer with the sunrise. He must be doing it on purpose, she’d think, when he would use his undershirt as a towel to wipe the sweat from his eyes, gleaning a glance of his stomach.  

 

He must know that she knows that he does it on purpose, she would think, when he’d perfectly execute three backflips in a row on the ledge of the balcony, twisting and spinning, making a performance of his practice.

 

Zelda swallows, the Hot Springs joke suddenly not so funny anymore.

 

She has a pitiful, meager hope that they keep their clothes on. Or, at the very least, _most_ of them.

 


	8. viii. In which Link attempts to keep his hands to himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't played the new DLC. I'm so behind. Buuuuut after I do, I'm sure I'll add elements from it into this story, somehow and somewhere. I mean, Link rides some kind of unicorn motorcycle? LOL. That's too good to pass up. 
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos mean so much to me. I adore them, even if I don't actually reply.
> 
> I'm also hoping to have another chapter out by Christmas. Happy holidays, everyone!

It turns out that they don’t shed all of their clothes—fortunately or unfortunately.

 

Link changes into his shorts and nothing else. For propriety’s sake, he almost forgoes this and leaves on his tunic, but decides against it. As pleasant as the elixir makes their bodies feel, it doesn’t exclude the buckets of sweat that has been dripping off him since entering Eldin. He also wants to use the opportunity as a kind of bath, because Din knows he smells to high heaven, and cleansing even slightly sounds too glorious to pass up.

 

When Link notices Zelda’s obvious uncertainty, as she stands before the pool looking at it like it’s going to swallow her whole, he immediately attempts to pacify her, telling her she doesn’t have to change if she doesn’t want to.

 

“Two minutes out of the Springs and the air will dry out our clothes completely,” he says. “I was only wearing shorts because I...smell.”

 

When he tells her this, Zelda seems very relieved for some reason.

 

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad our clothes will...dry fast. There’s nothing I hate more than wearing cold, wet clothes.”

 

He smiles at her, but then realizes that from the conversation earlier about the Springs, him being shirtless might be conveying too suggestive connotations. He almost palms his face, but he says quickly, “I can put a shirt on, too, if, ah, if this is too...uncomfortable, princess.”

 

She promptly turns away from him. “Oh, no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Why would it make me uncomfortable? Nonsense, Link!”

 

She shakes her head with vigorous abandon before folding into the Hot Springs. She remains fully clad in the blue armor and pants she always wears. It is a decision which is very fine with Link. Her bodysuit doesn’t leave much to the imagination as it is. Seeing her skin would only reconfirm his suspicions, and he mustn’t have that.

 

“Oh!” Zelda exclaims, running her fingers along the surface of the water. “I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s certainly warm, of course, but considering the heat of the atmosphere and adding to it the heat of the Springs, well…I thought I’d only be able to tolerate them for a few minutes. But it’s actually quite refreshing!” She smiles. “I know we’re still under the effects of the elixir, but it’s not stifling at all.” She goes to sit on the edge of the pool, unlacing and removing her boots before putting her bare feet into the water. She sighs. It’s a blissful and happy sigh. Her head lolls back and she closes her eyes in utter relaxation.

 

Her neck is very swan-like, Link decides.

 

“If we didn’t have miles and miles to trek still, I’m sure I could stay in this position forever.” She hums, and Link can’t remember a time when she looked so serene. “What about you, Link? Actually, don’t answer that. I already know you wouldn’t stay here forever, even if you could. You’ve always needed to be on the move, doing something useful…some task to finish…something important.”

 

In the sunshine, her hair is very golden. Link’s noticed this before—the shocking yellow that burns into his eyes when the sun hits the strands. In all of his memories walking behind her, her hair remained one of the main features. Even now, in the low light of the dusk, the intensity is very direct and illustrious, unable to be ignored.

 

“If I’m honest, this is probably the most inactive I’ve seen you. With no enemies to fight or errands to run, I’m amazed you haven’t once complained about boredom.”

 

He can tell she’s teasing him with her words—her tone and the smile that lifts her lips are telltale signs, and he knows her eyes would be sparkling, too, were they open.

 

“I’m never bored when you’re around, Zelda.”

 

Her eyes open, and she seems surprised. Her mouth opens as if she’s about to say something, but she does not. Instead her eyes catch onto his, and Link realizes that he’s still standing in the same spot in the middle of the pool, staring. He’s been staring, and he’ll blame it on the Hot Springs—even though he knows that’s not true, not at all—but he doesn’t mind that he’s staring and still staring and that Zelda _knows_ he’s staring. She doesn’t avert her eyes from him either, and he wonders what she’s thinking as they look at one another. It’s not unpleasant, awkward, or uncomfortable. It’s quite the opposite. Link feels a delicate pull in his stomach, an odd warmth flowing around him that isn’t from the water.

 

Her eyes eventually fall to his torso, and her visage changes immediately from contentment to concern. 

 

“Link,” she breathes. “Your scars.”

 

Link blinks, and he follows her gaze down to his chest. Perhaps he’s never taken the time to notice them before, but she’s right. He has a fair few, and most he doesn’t remember obtaining. 

 

“Oh,” he says. “I guess I couldn’t dodge every hit,” he jokes.

 

Zelda shakes her head, scooting from her seat on the side of the rock and into the Spring, making her way to him. “Of course not, Link. Even heroes aren’t invincible. Perhaps I thought the Shrine of Resurrection would have...renewed your skin, as well. Silly of me to think, but...”

 

Link does have to admit that there are parts of him that resemble a jigsaw puzzle, the newer scars a light pink, meeting with the older, whiter lines and healed, puckered skin. It’s not alarming, but Link can imagine it might be off-putting to the unprepared. Zelda has seen her fair share of violence, be she can’t seem to stop biting the inside of her lip. 

 

“They’re only scars, princess,” Link says. “They are nothing to concern yourself over.”

 

“Maybe not,” she says, and she slowly brings up her hand to a particularly prominent scar on his upper chest. She pauses before gently grazing it with the pad of her fingertips, and Link gives a valiant effort to remain very still against her touch. “But some of these wounds could have been fatal, Link. I’ve talked to you about being reckless.”

 

Link smiles at this. Without thought, he places his hand on top of hers. “I made sure to save you before I died, didn’t I?”

 

Zelda looks at their hands, then looks up at him. She sighs. “Yeah, the _second_ time around.”

 

“I learn quickly.”

 

“I...can’t quite agree.”

 

Link chuckles and squeezes her hand before he lets go, his arm falling to the side. Shockingly, Zelda’s hand remains on his chest, and Link tries not to fidget. 

 

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to, princess,” he says good-naturedly. 

 

“Are most of these from the guardians? When we were outside of Fort Hateno?” Zelda asks, her fingers gliding over the long line of the scar. Link glances down, following her hand. 

 

“From what I can remember,” he answers. “I don’t think I gained more than a few on my journey to Hyrule Castle, princess.”

 

Zelda makes a noise. “Are they from Lynels?”

 

“More than likely,” Link smiles. “More likely than from bokoblins or Ganon.” He pauses. “Maybe from a Molduga. There was a day when I fought two of them at the same time.” At her face, he adds, “But that doesn’t happen very often.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?” she says, but she smiles. Link is slightly astonished, but pleased that she seems to finally be loosening up. “You’ll have to show me what they look like in Gerudo Valley. I’ve actually never been far out enough to see one in the sands.”

 

Link raises an eyebrow but is delighted. “Sure thing, princess.”

 

Her smile fades into a frown again, and her hand moves from the scar on his chest to another on his shoulder, then one on his forearm. Link opens his mouth but has nothing to say underneath the scrutiny and touch of her observation. 

 

“I wonder if...” she says under her breath, and she trails as a faint light exudes off her fingers and settles into his skin. He hears a beating thump in his ears, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing, but Zelda’s. It’s a kind sensation, somehow, gently prodding, and electric, and it swarms underneath his skin like the burrowing Molduga they had just been speaking of before. 

 

He feels an immediate vulnerability, with his person being bare and open, and it’s unlike anything he’s felt before—or anything that he can remember.

 

It is brief, a burst of a moment, and then the light fades from Zelda’s fingertip. The sensation all but vanishes, and she takes her hand away. Her eyes wide and strangely excited, and she looks at him in awe.

 

“Link! I could just see...or I just saw...how you received every one of your scars. I’m—I didn’t even realize that’s what was happening before my power was already working,” she says breathlessly. She grabs his arm and begins to walk toward the edge of the pool where it’s shallower. “Come this way,” she says. “Let’s sit. I can tell you about them, if you’d like. Perhaps it’ll help you remember more, or maybe it will just be interesting hearing about yourself.” Zelda stops abruptly. “I mean, only if you want to. I didn’t mean to simply assume you’d want to—“

 

“Of course I would,” Link says, cutting her off with a smile. Her excitement is infectious, and he finds he is curious as to what she saw and how she saw it, and if she could she feel that strange, otherworldly connection between her skin and his own, just as he did.

 

She smiles back as they sit. “Okay, wonderful. So I’ll start with this one,” she says, pointing to the scar she was first so interested in before on his chest. “You weren’t lying, earlier. You go this one from a Lynel. It was striped, black and white. It was…lovely, in a way. Ferocious, of course, but Lynels have always had a kind of majestic aura about them, to me. Your dodge timing was off, and he cut you with his sword.”

 

As she says it, Link can nearly feel the slice from the blade. It’s such a strong phantom sensation that he winces. “That sounds about right,” he says, rubbing the scar.

 

“This one,” she continues, touching the white line on his shoulder, “is from when you were much younger, perhaps nine or ten. Your father was teaching you how to ride horses, and you lost control and fell into some brambles. Fortunately, they were enough cushion to avoid a broken collarbone or an arm, but you were amply scraped up and bruised. Your father…” she pauses, looking up at him. “Do you remember your father?”

 

Link thinks a moment, searching deep into the still as of yet foggy recesses of his mind. “A little. Not with images or conversations, but more with…emotions. When I think of my father, I feel…well, I guess you could say I _don’t_ feel.”

 

“Yes…” Zelda says softly. “You never spoke of him much to me. Only when my father scolded me on the bridge did you mention him, later that day. You said something along the lines of, some fathers are overwhelmed with pursuits. Ambition, glory, even fear… but that I should never feel as though I’m inadequate, and that you believed in me.” She averts her eyes from him, and a faint blush spreads across the bridge of her nose. “You consoled me without me ever asking. It was something I needed to hear, especially from the hero himself. Of course, I—“

 

The scene clicks in Link’s mind with the abrupt force that his memories have been accustomed. “You rejected it,” he says, and Zelda blinks.

 

“You remember?”

 

“Only the part where you told me that I wasn’t obligated to attempt to make you feel better. That you’d done nothing to be rewarded with my faith in you.” Link shakes his head. “To prove you wrong, I began to list all of the accomplishments I’d witnessed you achieve in the past months I had been your guardian and champion. They were small, but significant, and I reminded you of your devotion, and your perseverance, and your knowledge. It’s easy to forget the good things when all you can think of is the bad.” Link smiles gently. “You’re very good at that, Zelda.”

 

Still blushing, Zelda looks up at him, then back down at his scar. “Yes, I suppose I am. Well, ah, anyway, your father scolded you and made you get back on the horse until you were able to control it. You fell a few more times, but none were as severe as the first.”

 

“I believe my father scolded me a lot,” Link says, and it’s just something that he knows, as if it’s a branded fact in his mind’s eye. “We have that in common.”

 

“It seems so,” Zelda says, and Link, not for the first time, feels a deep, threaded kinship with her. She touches his forearm. “Moving on to this scar, you got it from some sort of contest with the Rito. I think it was a kind of prove-your-worth type of situation. You were trying to beat a time in the training grounds, shooting targets with your bow, and you were going so fast that you somehow clipped your arm with an arrowhead.”

 

“Did I win?” Link asks, and Zelda rolls her eyes.

 

“I don’t know, but I’m sure you did. You always seem to beat everyone in competitions.”

 

He grins.

 

“This one is interesting,” she continues, barely touching the line underneath his chest. “It’s from a Great Fairy…” she says, looking at him curiously. “One of her nails nicked you when she…brought you into the fountain?”

 

“Oh,” Link says, rubbing his chin. “Yeah, I remember that. I hadn’t realized she cut me until later.” He shrugs. “I told you they get handsy.”

 

“And rough,” Zelda says.

 

The way she says it makes Link flush. To hide it, he says, “Well, they know what they like.”

 

Zelda looks like she gets flustered at his words, too, and he’s immediately delighted by it.

 

“So, this one,” she says, moving on quickly. “This one was from a Yiga commander…”

 

This continues for a handful of scars that litter the rest of Link’s chest, arms, and back. She touches mostly on the scars from _before—_ the old, white lines that tell their own stories, big and small, with Link’s missteps and inexperience. Many are from before he was appointed champion, mixed with the few that were gained during his guardianship and after the Shrine of Resurrection.

 

“This one is probably my favorite,” she says, a few scars later. “You were somehow in Gerudo—I don’t know the context or how you got in there—but Urbosa was chasing you through the town. You managed to get out and jumped on a sand seal outside of the gates. Urbosa aimed with a bow and hit you with an arrow. It grazed the side of your neck.” Zelda chuckles, shaking her head. “I don’t know if she was aiming to kill you, but a few centimeters to the side and it would have hit a major artery. Do you remember what you did?”

 

Link furrows his brows. He wishes he remembered. He more than likely dressed as a girl in the before time to get into Gerudo, but what kinds of shenanigans did he get himself into? Probably something with the ruler of the time, or perhaps his identity was uncovered, or maybe he did something that annoyed Urbosa enough for her to want to attempt physical damage.

 

“I wish I could tell you, Zelda,” he says. “Maybe they realized there was a voe roaming around Gerudo’s streets and the word got out.”

 

“A voe does not simply just stroll into Gerudo, Link. How did you get in?”

 

Link does not want to share the fact that he cross dresses, so he says, “I probably climbed over the walls. Hid in the shadows. That sort of thing.”

 

Zelda does not look satisfied with his answer, but she relents. “In any case, that one is my favorite visual. You, running like mad to get away from Urbosa, and Urbosa looking simply irate, saying curses in Gerudo.”

 

Link smiles at the thought. He does remember the sport that it was, making Urbosa completely and utterly exasperated with him. It was too easy and too fun.

 

Zelda’s storytelling is fun, too. But even with it, Link can’t remember acquiring most of the old scars. He tries to see himself, in the right place, doing exactly what Zelda relates to him, but they become those factual statements added to his life instead of memories. It doesn’t much bother Link—he enjoys listening to the parts of his life he can’t remember with Zelda’s voice narrating pictures he wouldn’t have known otherwise.

 

She’s animated when she speaks, as well. She talks of his life as if he’s a creature she’s researching, or a plant, or some part of the world that she’s utterly fascinated by, with the knowledgeable, scholarly tone that she tends to use. Link thinks he can listen to her talk all day, and the pulling connection he felt earlier when she used her power is present every time she touches one of the lines on his body.

 

“And this one…” she says, her voice quieter and melancholic. Her hand grazes against his stomach, along the meshwork of white. They look like faint spiderwebs around the circle of his belly button. A few lines are deeper, the skin hardened and leathery instead of smooth. “This was the main one from that day outside of Fort Hateno. A collection from the guardian lasers. There are some on your back, too, and your sides,” she says. She finds one of the lines on his ribcage, and he involuntarily flinches. Zelda apologizes quickly, curling her fingers together.

 

“No, it’s okay,” he says. “I think I’m ticklish.”

 

Zelda blinks, and then she laughs lightly. “Oh, that’s good information to have.”

 

Link is highly certain it isn’t good information to have.

 

“So all these lines are from that day, huh?” he says, trying to steer clear of the topic. “I assumed so.”

 

“Yes,” Zelda says, looking at them again. She blushes for some reason, and Link is very interested in what she could be thinking as she looks at his torso. “The Shrine healed you very well. You look…good. Better. Better, I mean. Well, good, too, but I wouldn’t have thought that the lines would turn out to be so faint after that…” she says, stumbling on her words. Link observes her nervous tics, waits for her to look up at him, but she never meets his eyes.

 

“I look good, you mean?” he says, not able to help himself. He startles her into looking at him.

 

“I—um—oh, Link, stop!” she says, laughing nervously. “You know what I mean!”

 

He does know that she only means his scars, but he’s not sure if that’s a hundred percent accurate with how much she’s blushing.

 

“Of course,” he says, and he realizes how close they’ve gotten in proximity. They’re seated, turned toward each other. His arm is resting along the rock behind her, and their legs are touching under the Springs. There is approximately six inches between their faces, and the ends of her hair are splayed in the water, reaching and touching the side of his stomach like gentle feathers.

 

“What about you, Zelda?” he asks, and he’s so fully aware of his arm, now, touching the armor of her back.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Do you have any scars?” He tilts his head. “Any stories?”

 

“I…no. I don’t think I do,” she says. “The life of a princess is swathed with comfort and protection. Goddess forbid I’m injured from the wilds with a cut or a bruise—that’s how I used to feel, anyway, when I was younger. I always felt trapped in the castle, trying to tend to my duties, while my true love lay outdoors with research and learning. But you knew that.”

 

“’The princess can only thrive out here in the wild,’” Link quotes.

 

Zelda smiles at him. “Oh, yes. I said that about the silent princess, didn’t I? It’s very symbolic, isn’t it? I could only find my power after journeying outside with you, and prosper on my own.”

 

“When you first talked to me about it, I thought you might have been talking about yourself, not the flower.”

 

“Funny,” she says. “I didn’t even realize how truthful the symbolism was for me until…later.”

 

“There are a lot of places that the princess habituates, now. You’d be pleased—in Kakariko Village, Hyrule Ridge, West Necluda…even in the Korok Forest. I’ll show you when we come upon them,” he says.

 

“That would be splendid, Link,” Zelda beams, and Link instantly thinks of something else.

 

“Nowadays, Hylians have attached a legend to the silent princess. They believe it to bring good fortune to couples who pluck them and swear eternal love for each other.”

 

“Oh,” Zelda says, biting her lip. “That certainly is a weighty burden for the silent princess. I wonder how that legend came about?”

 

 _You tell me,_ he thinks with an overpowering suddenness, but he keeps himself from saying it. Instead, he replies, “Perhaps it has something to do with ‘love conquers all.’ Love is said to bring out the best in us…I guess good fortune goes along with that, too.”

 

She stares at him for a while, for several beats too long, before she says softly, “Yes…you’re right. It does bring out the best in us.”

 

 _We are very close._ It’s an annoying, repeated thought that passes through his mind every second, and he must curl his hands into fists to keep from touching her. The way she’s looking at him doesn’t help, either.

 

“Link,” Zelda says, and her tone comes out breathless and urgent. “I—there’s something that I should probably…um…that I should—”

 

“Oh-HO!” a voice booms to their side. It startles both of them, and they jump a mile. Link ends up several feet away from her, half-lying on his side with his head nearly submerged in the Spring. Zelda somehow managed to stand on the edge of the Springs. “If it isn’t the honeymooners!”

 

Bludo leisurely walks into the Springs across from them, sighing hugely. The Spring waters shift in long, low waves.

 

“Bludo,” Link greets. “You were right. It’s very…stimulating, here.” He looks at Zelda and gives her a large smirk. She shakes her head at him.

 

“Ha-ha-ha!” Bludo laughs. “Great to hear it! Not surprising, either. You guys must have been here for hours! It’s nearly two in the morning.”

 

Zelda chokes. “Two in the _morning?”_ She looks up to the night sky, finding the angle of the moon. “How can that be _possible?”_

 

“Time flies when you’re in the Springs,” Bludo says.

 

“Why are you here so late, Bludo?” Link asks, standing up and gathering his tunic and boots from the pile he left off to the side. Link isn’t too surprised at the time—he knew they’d been there a while, but he’s used to long nights from when he traveled alone.

 

“Oh, me, I have a lot of back pain. I can only sleep a few hours before I wake up to the aches. So I’ve taken to coming here at night.” He settles in and relaxes against a rock ledge. “It soothes me more than any medicine.”

 

“I’m glad you’ve found something that works for you, Bludo,” Link says, slipping on his boots. He hands Zelda another elixir and drinks one himself. “I’m also glad you came, or we’d be here until sunrise.”

 

“The night is young, my friends,” Bludo says, but his eye is already closed and his breathing is heavy. He begins snoring seconds later, and Link catches Zelda’s eye with a smile.

 

“Alright. Let’s find a place to sleep,” Link says as he walks up to her. They begin to make their way across the bridge and back into the village.

 

“Yes, let’s,” Zelda says. “I just can’t believe we stayed there so long.”

 

Link shrugs. “Good company,” he says, and by the time they reach the hotel and get settled, he decides to ask her. “What were you going to tell me, before Bludo interrupted?”

 

Zelda opens her mouth, looking at the ground. “Um…well, it’s left me, I think. I can’t remember.”

 

Link doesn’t believe her for a second, but he doesn’t mind it.

 

He’ll wait for as long as he needs to.


	9. ix. In which Zelda and Link make their way to Tabantha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!! 
> 
> I meant to post on Christmas, but this was the chapter that would never end. It’s a monster. So the consequence was a super long chapter. I hope no one minds. ;)
> 
> Also, a warning for minor violence in this chapter, but it’s nothing anyone can’t handle. 
> 
> Happy reading! I hope you enjoy!

Before they set off from Eldin, Link shows her around the rest of the mountain. So set have they  been in their routine with waking up at dawn, even going to bed in the wee hours of the morning doesn’t change their internal schedules. Zelda wakes up at six am on the dot. Link is already up, cooking their breakfast. 

 

He ends up showing her the Daqa Koh and the Kayra Mah shrines. The Daqa Koh is very short and straightforward, using the raising blocks as a jumping platform onto the different platforms around the room until gliding onto the entrance leading to the monk’s enclosure. After a few words of persuasion, Link let Zelda use the paraglider on her own. And while Zelda misses the opportunity to wrap herself around Link on the paraglider, she has a blast jumping and gliding from the different platforms.

 

“Link!” she shouts mid-air, making a circular pattern around the shrine chamber. “This is exhilarating!” 

 

All the while, Link occasionally reminds her to note her stamina, and if she becomes fatigued. Zelda secretly applauds herself that she never slips or needs Link to catch her from falling.

 

The Kayra Mah shrine is located in the Gorko Tunnel, and on the way there, Link tells her about the brothers Bladon and Gonguron. Bladon had asked Link’s assistance to find his brother, and Link—being Link, of course—couldn’t refuse reuniting family members. “Gonguron ended up being passed out inside,” Link explains as they enter, making their way to the shrine at the end of the pathway. “He worked too hard trying to break through the rocks at the end of the tunnel. In order to wake him up, I had to fetch rock roast at Gortram Cliff and bring it back. After cooking it, Gonguron woke up, ate it in record time, and became so revitalized that he axed through the mounds of rock that were previously covering the shrine. He was on a mission to ‘unlock the hero’s secret.’ I had to keep myself from answering it for him,” Link deadpans. Zelda snorts.

 

“These brothers sound like interesting characters,” she says. “I’ve heard rock roast from Gortram is supposedly the best rock here for feasting.” She shakes her head. “I remember Daruk insisted I try one of them. It was some sort of…special cut of rock roast. I felt so bad when I thought about refusing—he was so insistent and excited about it—so I ended up taking a piece of rock and tried to chew through it. He watched me the whole time! I could hardly hide my disgust when it was in my mouth, though I did try,” she laughs.

 

Link smiles at her. “I actually read about that. Daruk kept a…’training journal.’ He didn’t think it was manly to call it a diary. He wrote about that, too. That you were grimacing about something. He didn’t seem to catch on that it was from the rock roast.”

 

Zelda shakes her head in good humor. “That’s good to know, then.”

 

“I can’t imagine you trying it, Zelda. A princess eating rocks?”

 

“There are worse things to try,” she says. “Take your dubious food, for instance.”

 

Link makes a sound between a huff and a sigh. “It’s really not that bad unless you put monster parts in it.”

 

Zelda curls her mouth into a grimace, much like the one she had when eating the rock a long, long time ago. “Link, monster parts?”

 

“It was a one-time thing. I was curious.”

 

Zelda’s never fully known the true meaning of adventurous before he came along.

 

Once inside the shrine, Link points out the objective, which is very plain and, again, straightforward.

 

“So you run up the ramp, avoid getting rolled over by the metal spheres, and then you’d be at the Sheikah platform.”

 

“Simple,” Zelda says, automatically beginning her trek up the incline. She’s stopped abruptly with Link’s hand wrapped around her forearm.

 

“You’re not doing this one,” he says. “I just wanted to show you.”

 

Zelda gapes at him. “Link! Remember the other shrine where I told you I wouldn’t get trampled? This is the same. I’ll use the Slate on the spheres.”

 

He shakes his head and holds firm. “I’m sure you would be fine, but this shrine is a higher risk than the one before, and I’m not allowing it.”

 

“Link,” she tries in her sternest, most intimidating tone. “I can handle myself—“

 

“I know you can,” he says. “But doing this shrine is a needless danger to your well-being. I would feel much better if you forewent this one, princess.”

 

His continuous refusal grates on her, but it’s the formality he uses at the end of his statement that truly irks her. She wonders for a moment if they will ever outgrow the guardian-princess banner that hangs over them.

 

She sighs deeply, but Link’s seriousness clinches her decision.

 

“Fine, Link,” she says. “You, however, must remember that I’m fully capable of accomplishing these things. A cut or bruise won’t kill me.”

 

Link tilts his head at her, and he looks relieved. “No, they won’t, but recklessness can. And you don’t want to be reckless like I am, do you?”

 

“Link, you can’t use that as an argument. It’s like saying I’ll stop being stubborn.”

 

“Fair point, Zelda.”

 

Next, they make their way toward Goronbi Lake to the Qua Raym shrine. Being on a small rock island in the middle of the lava pool, Zelda is surprised that Link takes them up to a tall, cliff outcropping overlooking the shrine, as well as giving them enough distance to paraglide down. From his reaction from before, it didn’t seem like he’d feel comfortable letting her paraglide down with him toward the lava, but it’s a nice surprise nonetheless.

 

Zelda almost mentions it, but she decides against it when he silently kneels for her to climb onto his back.

 

When they make it inside, Zelda observes all the upraised platforms and boxes. Link helps fill her in on the missing components, the locked door, and where the small key had been located. While he’s explaining, Zelda continues on like she does in the other shrines, which includes taking a lot of pictures and making her way up to the monk’s platform.

 

“Don’t worry!” she calls down, smiling cheekily. “I’ll avoid the spikes!”

 

Once they finish up and make their way back outside, Zelda looks doubtfully around them. There doesn’t seem to be a way to get back to the main land without drowning in lava.

 

“Link…” she says. “How will we get back? I suppose you’ll use the travel medallion again while I use the Slate?”

 

Link looks around them before answering, and then making up his mind, he says, “No. There’s a better way to do it.” He kneels. “Climb on.”

 

Unsure, Zelda does as she’s told. She doesn’t notice any updraft in the area that might help them, so she doesn’t know what to expect. Link’s face, as always, gives nothing away.

 

“Hold on tight,” he instructs her. She burrows in close enough to him so that her nose is pressing into his neck. _He smells like the wilds,_ she thinks inadvertently.

 

“Okay,” she whispers.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Ready.”

 

Suddenly, they’re taken on a swift, very large updraft into the air. Wind rushes up from the ground, propels them up at least ten stories high, and she swears she sees a faint outlining of Revali swirling around them before they begin to paraglide back to the main path leading back to Eldin. Her stomach bottoms out at the force, and she lets out an involuntary shriek.

 

“Link!” she exclaims. “Is this Revali’s Gale?”

 

She can see the lines on his face form into a grin. “It’s fun, isn’t it?”

 

 “Let’s do this all the time!”

 

Link laughs at that.

 

Once they land, Link says, “I wish I could do it more often, but I can only do it three times in succession before needing to wait a few hours until I can do it again.”

 

“Does that go for each other power, as well?” Zelda asks.

 

He nods. “I can do all of them three times, except Mipha’s Grace. I can only do her power once.”

 

“Oh, I see. It’s a powerful healing property, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes. It heals me when I’m badly injured or on the verge of unconsciousness,” he says.

 

“You’ll have to show me each power, excluding that one,” she says. “I’d love to see Mipha’s Grace, but I’d rather not see you bleeding profusely.”

 

“It works very quickly. You wouldn’t even see any of the blood.”

 

Zelda shakes her head at him in exasperation. “It’s almost like you want more scars.”

 

They stop for lunch soon after, near the Medingo Pool down the path. Zelda realizes that Link is more talkative than usual today. Case and point—he begins to talk about the different quests and people he met during his time in Eldin before defeating Ganon without one word to prompt him to start.

 

Zelda is very pleased with this turn of events. She’s not even sure if she can remember a time when he began a conversation all on his own. She eats the meat he hands her and settles in as Link tells her about Bayge, Heehi, and Kabetta, the Goron Blood Brothers, and how Link was initiated as an honorary Goron Brother due to his success on the Gut Check Challenge.

 

“He also challenged me to an endurance test, where we had to stand on heated rock for a period of time. Heat-resistant armor wasn’t allowed, so I used an elixir. They were none the wiser.”

 

Zelda smiles at him. “Isn’t that cheating, hero?”

 

“They didn’t mention a word about not using elixirs,” Link says, defending his choice. While he keeps a straight face, his eyes are alight with mischief.

 

“I must say, I am quite surprised at your choice of action, Link.”

 

“I like winning,” he says, flashing her a grin.

 

He also tells her more about Daruk’s training journal, and what he read about before.

 

“I think I had a strong bond with him,” Link says, finishing up his meal. He throws the bones into the air and they catch on fire not two seconds later. “More than I realized, until I read his journal. I have a feeling it was because he didn’t mind that I didn’t talk much. He talked enough for the both of us. And we both liked food. I think that’s really what started our friendship.”

 

Zelda thinks back on Daruk, smiling softly at the memories. “He was a gentle giant. He was ferocious and strong, too, of course. Being a champion, those two traits are necessary to have. But he was so easygoing, and he never had it in him to worry for long. He was…lovable. In fact, as fearless as he was, the one thing he couldn’t handle were dogs. Of all things!” she laughs briefly. Link’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

 

“Dogs? Really?”

 

“Yes,” she says, shaking her head. “He had some bad experiences when he was young. He never got over it.”

 

“Huh,” Link says. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

 

“What about you, Link?” she asks, curious. “Do you have any secret fears? Phobias?”

 

Link scratches the back of his head. “Good question. I’m…not sure. The only one I can think of now is imagining you getting squashed by a giant metal ball.”

 

Zelda rolls her eyes, but she smiles.

 

“In all seriousness, though, Link. Is there anything that scares you? Anything at all?”

 

Link frowns in contemplation, thinking for a long while as he watches a few, stray embers float around them. 

 

“I’m sure there’s something trivial and mundane that strikes an immediate fear in me, like spiders or a pit full of spikes.”

 

“A pit full of spikes, mundane?” she says, semi-joking. He shrugs sheepishly.

 

“It’s lost to me,” he admits after a few more moments of thinking. “I have a good grasp of what it was before—my _big_ fear. It was the same as yours, Zelda.”

 

Zelda catches his eye. _Oh_ , she thinks. _Failure_.

 

“‘We’re the same, you and I,’” she says, repeating and remembering a conversation they had once, those years ago. “It was a silly question. I always hoped, back then, that the _fear_ of failure could be worse than the outcome _of_ my failure. It was another naïve denial I would tell myself on the bad days,” she says, looking away from him. “We both know the price of that failure, don’t we? Now, it seems that fear of anything is…obsolete.”

 

Link looks at her for a while, and he regains his characteristic reticence within the span of a few silent, long minutes. His chattiness is gone, and Zelda regrets the course of the conversation. He seems serious and thoughtful, a hardened lowering of his brow creating bold lines on his face.

 

He finally says, “We are not who we were a hundred years ago. We both know that. It’s been hard for me to mourn over what was lost, to discern what I feel and how I _should_ feel. It…would be easy for me to keep busy, stay occupied, and avoid my emotions. The cowardly way, to hide and become nobody. If it weren’t for you, Zelda, it wouldn’t matter what I did. I would have no one and nothing but a solitary life, shrouded in my own mysteries of who I am.” He looks at her, and she feels it deeply, striking the chord of her soul like his gaze tends to do. “Every day, you continue to give meaning to the parts of me that I don’t know, and may never know, and…” he glances to the heated earth surrounding them and the lingering haze of smoke. “Maybe that’s why I’m so protective—not because I used to be your personal guard and not because I still feel a duty to protect you from the cuts and bruises that won’t kill you.”

 

In the spaces between his words, Zelda fears her heart may burst. She swallows the overwhelming onslaught as best she can.

 

When she remains silent, he continues. “I apologize for earlier, in the Kayra Mah shrine. I was a bit…overbearing. I see that now. I’ll let you explore the shrines fully from now on.”

 

As always, he makes it impossible for her to be even slightly mad at anything he does. She opens her mouth, and she’s not sure if she’ll sob, laugh, or form words at all.

 

“I don’t mind,” she says, without any break in her voice. It’s a small miracle. _It’s probably Hylia, pitying me and giving me strength,_ she thinks. “Link, I don’t mind a bit.”

 

“Careful, Zelda,” he says, softly but teasingly. “If you tell me that, you might regret it later when I go back on my word.”

 

“I’ll allow it if the shrine has a pit full of spikes or spiders crawling along the walls,” she says.

 

Link smiles, and Goddess help her—she’s so far into the never-ending abyss, so far fallen, so fully armored with nothing but vulnerability. It’s terrifying. Where it used to be a simple fear, nearly overcome the day before in the Springs, it’s suddenly evolved into her new, big fear. It doesn’t seem so obsolete, in this moment. She spoke too soon beforehand.

 

_Way to go, Zelda. Way to go._

 

“I’ll take it,” he says, standing up. She follows his lead. “Where to, next?”

 

They begin to leave Eldin soon after, the midday sun unforgiving in the cloudless sky. Zelda’s drenched in sweat, and she’s not upset to carry on from the fiery atmosphere of Daruk’s hometown.

 

They pass through the Maw of Death Mountain within the next hour, recovering at the Foothill Stable and acquiring their horses before moving along the path towards the west, in the direction of Central Hyrule. They pass through the rolling, rocky hills of Trilby Valley to their right, then over the strip of land flanked by the river surrounding the Lanayru Wetlands and Zelo Pond. Once they make it to the fork at Thims Bridge, Link halts his horse. After a moment or two, he seems to decide on something, and dismounts. Zelda follows his lead before asking why they’ve stopped.

 

“The sun will set in an hour or two,” Link answers. “This is a great area to teach you archery, if you would like.”

 

Zelda gasps, immediately excited. “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!”

 

“Good, I’m glad you want to,” Link says, grabbing one of the many bows in his possession off his back. He hands it to her before grabbing another bow. He leads them off the path and towards a small copse of trees. He begins to show her, by example, the basics: how to hold the bow, how to knock arrows, how to aim, proper stance and breathing.

 

Link is a thorough and critical teacher. He makes sure she understands the proper techniques, and he commands her to knock back arrows several times without having her release them, so she knows the feel of it with ingrained confidence and familiarity. She can imagine him commanding a garrison of soldiers, teaching them the ways of swordplay and battle strategies.

 

“Your elbow tends to fall when you bring the arrow fully back,” he says, walking up closer to her. She drops her arms and sighs.

 

“Probably because it’s the fiftieth time I’ve done it.”

 

“Even so,” Link says. “Technique goes a long way for effectiveness as well as efficiency. Knock back an arrow, again.”

 

Her face pinches in exasperation, but she does as he instructs, much more aware of her elbow height along with the fatigue burning in her shoulder. Link comes around behind her, and he taps the underside of her elbow with his fingers. Zelda’s never realized how sensitive that area of skin is before.

 

“Keep your elbow here, in line with your shoulder. Keep your chest proud and back straight. Good. Now,” he says, his chest touching her back. He leans in close to her, raising his arm up so she can see him point. “Focus on that tree that’s about twenty feet in front of us. Take a breath, let it out slowly…then release your arrow.”

 

Zelda concentrates on his words instead of his closeness—or tries well enough, anyway. She follows his directions, and when she exhales her breath, she lets her arrow fly.

 

The arrow chips the side of the tree, a chunk of bark twirling off into the grasses. Zelda smiles.

 

“I hit it,” she says, relieved that she didn’t miss it entirely. She turns her head to look over her shoulder at him, and he’s still close to her. If she leans back, she could rest her body inside of his, like a warm cave.

 

“It was very good,” he says. “The first few times to learn and practice is not easy.”

 

“For normal people, you mean?”

 

He chuckles. “I was better with a sword. I had to practice longer with a bow.”

 

“The almighty hero? I’m shocked.”

 

“You better believe it. I was dismal,” he says. “ _That’s_ something I remember. I hated it, so I think that’s why I can remember it so clearly. Now, I’ll have you shoot a few more arrows. We have a little time before the sun fully sets.”

 

Zelda ends up shooting five more times before calling it quits. She’s almost able to hit the middle of the tree by the fifth arrow, and she can’t hide her pride in herself. However, her arms are shaky and clumsy, and her lack of muscle conditioning is humbling—especially under the tutelage of Link.

 

“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” he tells her, as if reading her thoughts.

 

She grimaces. “Yes. I figured as much. I’m becoming sore as we speak,” she says, holding a hand out in front of her and watching it vibrate with exhaustion.

 

“It’s a minor annoyance,” Link says. “The good thing is that if you work into the soreness, it’ll go away faster. We’ll do that tomorrow morning, if it suits you.”

 

And that’s exactly what they do. In the morning, Zelda wants to cry at the deep, penetrating pain in her arms. She tries to hold back her complaints, though she can’t avoid squinting, grimacing, and making a lot of uncomfortable, facial contortions when she warms up with postural stances and knocking back arrows.

 

If Link notices this, he doesn’t say a word—which is surprising due to the sole fact that he never passes up an opportunity to tease her. Instead, he comes up to her a few minutes into her warm-up with a jar containing an odd-colored liquid.

 

“Try this,” he says. “It’ll increase your strength for a while. It makes soreness more bearable.”

 

_Bless him_. She smiles at him gratefully before taking the jar. She sniffs the concoction first and begins to cough, the smell distinctly strange and stringent.

 

“Link…” she starts.

 

He anticipates this, because he says, “Just plug your nose and swallow it. Trust me.”

 

She looks at him with a dubious stare, then she looks back at the jar. She sighs, succumbing to her fate of possibly throwing up.

 

“Alright, down the hatch,” she says, plugging her nose and trying to swallow the jelly-like substance as quickly as she can. She coughs but is amazed that it doesn’t leave a terrible aftertaste like she was expecting. She also feels the effects of it immediately, her muscles feeling stronger and more assertive, as if she could make an arrow fly fifty feet further.

 

“Oh,” she says, staring at the now empty jar, intrigued. “What is this?”

 

“A mighty elixir,” Link says. “It boosts attack power.”

 

“I see,” she says, deciding if she wants to know the ingredients. Perhaps not so soon after swallowing, but she is curious, so she stashes the question away for a later time.

 

Soon, Zelda is aiming at another tree, and once she’s able to hit near and around the middle of the tree with consecutive hits, Link decides it’s time to make it more challenging. He places an apple—a very, very small apple—on top of a medium-sized rock that he finds somewhere around the area. Zelda was too preoccupied with knocking off arrows to notice where he went within the five minutes she wasn’t paying attention.

 

“Alright,” Link says. “When you’re ready.”

 

Zelda exhales, staring at the apple. She tries to concentrate. It’s only fifteen feet away, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s intimidatingly small nor does it change the fact that Link’s stare is the most intimidating audience when he’s standing just off to the side in her periphery.

 

_Oh, Zelda,_ she thinks. _If you can’t even ignore the outline he makes, how are you going to survive the rest of the trip?_ She pulls back an arrow, doing her best to aim. She takes a short breath in, holds it, and lets the arrow fly.

 

The arrow soars just above the apple. The apple blinks back at her. She growls under her breath, knocking back another arrow.

 

She continues her barrage of arrows until Link stops her. She’s baffled when he tells her she’s been going on for an hour.

 

“What?” she says, her voice high-pitched. “I’ve been in this same spot for an hour?”

 

Link smiles at her incredulity. “Not so unlike when you prayed at the Springs, is it?”

 

She blinks, the similarity he noted eerily similar. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. Old habits, I guess. I still can’t tell time.”

 

He has everything packed, she belatedly notices. The horses are aligned parallel with the path. Link walks up to her to take the bow, but she stops him.

 

“Wait, just one more,” she says. She looks forward, back to the still unmarked apple. She glares, bringing her elbow back and up, standing tall. She is _going_ to get it, this time, that damn, stubborn thing. She breathes out, and the arrow flies. It is still just above the apple, but it nicks the stem. The apple topples over off the rock and into the grass. Zelda sighs. A whole hour, and she hasn’t shown any progress.

 

“Better,” Link says, tilting his head towards her. “You hit the leaf.”

 

Zelda waves her arms out. She’s sure she looks like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’ve been shooting around it this whole time. I’m not improving, I’m staying the same.” She rubs at her forehead, feeling puerile, and yet she can’t shake the feeling that she’s supposed to be good at this. She decides that talking about it out loud will help.

 

 “I think I wrongly thought that I’d have the skill already—my ancestors were said to be adept with the bow. Skilled and masterful. Of course, they wouldn’t have gotten that way without practice…but…I don’t know.” She rolls her shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at her explanation. “Maybe I was hoping their skill was passed along and dormant, without the need of practice. After Ganon and unlocking my power, I’d have the skills of generations before.”

 

Link looks over at her, crossing his arms. “Maybe we’ll have to reenact our last battle to see if the dormant power will come out, now that you have a bow in your possession.”

 

Zelda smiles at him. “Ha-ha. _Right.”_

 

“Or we can practice for an hour every day, and then you’ll get really good at it.”

 

“As good as you?”

 

“No,” he says, grinning. “I’m supposed to be better than you. What else would you need me around for?”

 

She merely rolls her eyes at him. “Alright, I believe I’m done for the day,” she says, walking up to him to hand him the bow.

 

“We’ll do it again tomorrow unless you change your mind.”

 

“That sounds like a plan,” she agrees.

 

They decide to continue on the path following Thims Bridge toward Central Hyrule. Zelda asked if Link would like to visit the Korok Forest and the Deku Tree to return the Master Sword, but he declines.

 

“I’ll keep it with us during the rest of this journey, just in case,” he answers simply. Zelda is just fine with his decision, and they make their way across the Thims Bridge, following the path south past Crenel Peak and towards the Wetland Stable.

 

“Have you climbed every mountain in Hyrule, Link?” she asks them, her eyes lingering on Crenel Peak as they pass.

 

Link thinks for a while. “I would like to say that I have. Hylia knows I’ve tried, but I’m sure there are a few that I’ve missed. Hebra has several—that’s probably the place I don’t feel confident in saying I’ve explored fully, or scaled every mountain.”

 

Zelda suppresses a shiver. “I was about to say I was disappointed, but… Hebra. That’s understandable.”

 

“You mean, you don’t love it when it gets twenty below and aggressive wind-chill?”

 

“I prefer the temperatures where my toes don’t turn blue.”

 

“That’s no fun,” Link says, flashing her a grin.

 

“Says the man with thirty sets of armor and cold-resistant elixirs lining his magical traveling pack.”

 

“It pays to be prepared,” he says. “I will say, though, shield-surfing in the Hebra snowdrifts is one of my favorite things to do.”

 

“Shield-surfing?” Zelda asks. “As in, using your shield to ride down a mountain?”

 

Link smiles. “Yes, exactly like that. But you can surf on any sloped, grassy area. I’ll show you, sometime. It’s great.”

 

Zelda imagines Link’s diving energy converted into surfing down the steepest slope of Hebra Peak, and the image is unsurprisingly easy to visualize. She’s sure he does a few flips at breakneck speed for added measure.

 

They make a quick pit-stop at the Wetland Stable. Link stocks up on more apples, to Zelda’s amusement, and Zelda spies another Rumor Mill on the table inside the stable.

 

“Oh, Link, it’s another one!” she says, calling him over to her side. “In this one, she talks about the dragons of Hyrule. I wonder, do you think they’re still flying around as frequently as before?”

 

“I couldn’t say, princess,” Link says. “It’s quite possible. After freeing them from Malice, they seemed to enjoy roaming in the skies above their regions. I saw them quite frequently.” He looks over at her. “Dinraal usually travels in Tanagar Canyon during the night, so once we get to the Tabantha Great Bridge, we can see if he’s still around.”

 

“Good idea,” she says. “I haven’t seen the dragons since…well…” she says, trailing. “I guess since I was a little girl. I hope he’s still flying. They’re magnificent creatures.”

 

They explore the Kaya Wan shrine before continuing on, heading west on the Rebonae Bridge and crossing into Hyrule Field. Zelda feels an immediate wave of comfort and sadness at the familiar grasses, the open land, and the broken and quiet stillness of the breezes that sing by them.

 

She doesn’t have much to say, or that she wants to say. Her eyes repeatedly find their way to Hyrule Castle on their right. Her mind fills in the vacant picture with colors and life—the bustling busyness of Castle Town and the incessant, musical clamoring of noise. The merchants, bards, and families would all have their own tones and echoes across the fields, and the trading routes would always be bustling with transports, coming to and fro from all directions. She sees where the cathedral used to be, the steeple poking up above the houses and markets.

 

Much of the path is marred with dead husks of guardians, some frozen in motion from their new death, others covered with vines and disconnected parts from the ravaging of years.

 

As they begin to cross into the northwestern path, Link’s voice brings her out of the past.

 

“Princess,” he says. “Can we stop for a moment?”

 

His tone is…different, but calm. Zelda can’t put a finger on what’s wrong, but she has an instinctual grip on her stomach that something is, indeed, wrong.

 

“Of course,” she says, stopping her horse besides his. He dismounts and she follows his lead. He immediately comes to walk around beside her.

 

“Do you smell anything that doesn’t belong?”

 

Zelda frowns, taking deep inhales of the air. She doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about until a gentle breeze passes by, carrying with it the faint, sweet smell of ripened…bananas.

 

“Oh,” she says, her stomach drooping. “Yes. The Yiga.”

 

Link is close to her, his entire body concentrated on their surroundings. He nods. “I didn’t think they’d be so bold—“ he says, but he’s cut off by a distant laughter. Three Yiga appear in a burst of orange and red, surrounding them on all sides. Link pushes himself closer to Zelda.

 

“Stay right here,” he says. Link suddenly seems very mighty and very all-encompassing around her, though he is just a bit shorter than she is. Zelda’s worry immediately dissipates, and Link has the audacity to grin at her over his shoulder.

 

“Lookie, here! If it isn’t the hero and the princess! Yes, that’s right! We know who you are, and we’re going to make you wish you’d never destroyed Calamity Ganon or Master K—“

 

One of the Yiga’s speech is cut short by one of Link’s arrows, now embedded into his neck. He grasps at it and chokes, falling to his knees before falling to the ground. Zelda glances to the side and behind her at the other Yiga, who hesitate, glancing at one another, until dashing towards them, sickles drawn and flashing in the sunlight.

 

Link throws a spear that materializes into his hands—Zelda does a double take before she understands it came out of his pack—at one of the Yiga, who takes a precious moment to deflect it. Link uses the distraction to slice into the Yiga’s midsection with his sword, and the Yiga screeches before vanishing into the swirl of red.

 

The remaining Yiga aims his bow at Link during the onslaught on his companion, but Link sees it and turns, easily blocking it and rushing forward. The Yiga disappears as Link gets closer, but Link waits patiently for him to reappear, sheathing his sword and aiming his bow until the telltale orange and red emerges. Link doesn’t seem to notice when the colors appear behind him, and Zelda shouts his name in sudden panic. But Link already has his sword drawn and swung just as the Yiga resurfaces from his teleportation. His head flies through the air like a toy, and Zelda can’t help but look away from the sight of the two dead Yiga.

 

Link sheaths his sword and replaces his bow into his pack. “Like I was saying,” he says, walking up to her and continuing the conversation from earlier. Zelda examines him for any stray cuts as he gets closer, though she doesn’t need to. “I didn’t think they’d be so bold to attack us in broad daylight. I haven’t seen any suspicious travelers on our paths. I had thought they would have disappeared once we sealed Ganon away. But perhaps they're even more incensed, and that they know you're alive and well, they'll try that much harder to assassinate one or both of us.” He shakes his head, looking over her as well.

 

Zelda sighs. “Well, this attack does make sense—and I’m sure it’s one of many. The Yiga are nothing if not persistent and fueled with spite.”

 

“A bit illogical, too, but what cult isn’t crazy?” He gestures to her body. “They didn’t touch you anywhere?” 

 

She shakes her head. “No, not at all. I don’t think they even had a chance to look at me, much less try anything. You either?” She pushes his bangs back to see his forehead and the sides of his face without realizing what she’s doing. It’s more out of habit than of need—she knows he didn’t allow one of them to get anywhere near him. She takes her hand back.

 

“No, I’m fine,” he says, smiling and watching the arc of her hand. “Let’s make sure to keep our noses peeled from now on, okay?”

 

Zelda blinks and then snorts. “Link, did you just make a pun? About bananas?”

 

He grins with a sheepish shrug. “I couldn’t help it.”

 

“You’re a dork,” she says affectionately. “Well, this was a lively morning. Who knew we’d be the target of an attempted ambush today.”

 

"With Ganon gone, it could be ten thousand more years before the next prophecy.” Link tilts his head. “I’m just not sure why they’d continue existing.”

 

“I guess we’ll see what happens to them now that it’s all over. And I’ll keep my “nose peeled” like you said.”

 

“Yes, of course,” he says, flashing her yet another grin. It must be a world-record, Zelda thinks. She wishes he would smile like that all the time.

 

They mount their horses and continue on, past Mount Gustaf and the Carok Bridge, until they arrive at the Breach of Demise.

 

“It’s such a foreboding name,” she says, looking around at the depths of the craggy cliffs and the unpredictable border of sky above them. “Still, it doesn’t look any more dangerous than it was a hundred years ago.” She takes out the Slate and examines the area. “Oh, look, it says we’re close to a shrine!” She looks around at their general area. She spies an opening in the cliff face above them, sighing. “Of course, there would be one in here. We can still go, can’t we?”

 

Link half-shrugs. “Sure, as long as you don’t mind a little climbing.”

 

“Definitely not!” she beams.

 

They make it to the Zalta Wa shrine not too long later. Entitled Two Orbs to Guide You, it’s a simple and direct sequence of events.

 

Link shows her where the first orb was on a column above the bowled divot in the middle of the floor below.

 

“How did you get the orb down?” she asks. “Did you fan it with a korok leaf?”

 

Link shakes his head, though he smiles at her. “No, I didn’t even think about that. I’m sure it would have worked, but I used stasis and hit it with an arrow. When you use stasis on an object, it incrementally adds the energy you place on it. So, the more you hit it, the farther the object will move for you. Hitting it with an arrow gave it just enough to tap it in.”

 

“Huh,” Zelda says, imagining the orb on top of the column. “I didn’t realize stasis could work that way.”

 

“It took me a while to realize it, too.”

 

Zelda looks at him over her shoulder with a smirk. “It’s hard to believe that when everything you do is perfect.”

 

Link laughs at that. “Not at all, Zelda.”

 

“Uh-huh, save it for the common people, hero. I’ve seen too much of your skill,” she says, matter-of-fact.

 

Link sighs, but it doesn’t seem like he minds the compliment.

 

He shows her where the other orb had been, inside the drawn door that opened once the first orb had settled in its hole, along with the switch that opened the another door holding the hollowed divot for the second orb.

 

“Once both orbs are in place,” he tells her, “that stone shelf was activated. It elongated and shortened after every few seconds. It seems that it’s inactive, now.”

 

“Hm, I see. I wonder why. I guess it might be that some of the shrines are shutting off, since they’ve been completed,” Zelda comments as they walk toward the orange crystal.

 

“Could be,” Link says. “We’ll keep an eye on it.” He goes up to the crystal and touches it. “I don’t think you’ve seen one of these, yet, have you?” Zelda is already examining and taking pictures. “If you hit it, it’ll change from orange to blue and provoke a mechanism.” He looks at her when she’s done with her observation. “Would you like to hit it?”

 

He holds out a Boko club to her, and she delicately takes it.

 

“Okay...” Zelda says. She grips the club, carefully bringing it over her shoulder, and swings it down. Before she knows it, the ground pushes up from underneath them and they’re rocketed into the air. Zelda gives a short, involuntary scream at the sudden motion, dropping the club from the force, and she isn’t even sure when Link came up behind her. His arms have found their way around her middle as they come back down and land.

 

She grips his arms once her feet feel the ground. She takes a deep breath and huffs. “I was not expecting that. Thanks for telling me.”

 

“I thought you’d like the surprise,” his voice rumbles into her ear. His lips brush her skin, and she is suddenly on high alert. She tries to make herself relax.

 

“It was kind of fun, after I realized I wasn’t going to die.”

 

His laugh resounds through her back, and the sensation is lovely. She allows herself to fall against it, sighing and lowering her shoulders.

 

“You were never in any existing danger. The fall was short, and I made sure to cushion your landing,” he says, but it’s all unnecessary to her. “It’s the rush of the unexpected—that’s my favorite thing. Did you feel it?”

 

_Yes,_ she thinks straightaway. The strong band of his arms, the grip of his hand against her stomach, the wall of his chest, his lips in her ear—sure, the upward shove into the air was unanticipated and her adrenaline was breathtaking, but the unforeseen position they’re in now is much more appealing.

 

“Yes,” she answers aloud, breathlessly. If she turns her head to the right, they’ll be _close_ , she thinks. If she turns her whole body around, it’ll be even better.

 

Just as soon as that though comes, another one rushes through her. It’s too soon for that. Link isn’t even sure of _himself_ , let alone if he _might love_ her. And, also importantly for her, the action is too bold. _Courage, courage, wherefore art thou courage,_ she internally bemoans.

 

He lets go of her soon after, and he walks around to grab the forgotten Boko club from the ground.

 

“Alright, are you ready to go up this time?” he asks, looking at her. There’s a faint smile on his face, and a vibrant glow from the rush he spoke of earlier. It’s so devastating to look upon that she can’t look away.

 

“Um, yes, okay,” she says, pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. She follows him to the crystal, and he kneels down in front of her so she can climb on. It’s nearly a thoughtless action now that they’ve done it so many times. She takes a deep, selfish inhale of his _wild_ smell as he goes to stand.

 

“Hang on,” he says, before hitting the crystal with the club to reset the stone platform, then hitting it a second time to rocket them in the air. He pulls out the paraglider as soon as they’re in the air, landing right inside of the inner shell of the stone. They then make their way up the ramps and to the monk’s platform.

 

Zelda completes her ritualistic examination of the enclosure, noting any potential differences that may be relevant for future deliberations. When she turns around to tell Link she’s ready to go, she finds that he’s already gazing at her. His arms are crossed, and his face holds nothing but a serene thoughtfulness. It’s something akin to how he looked at her back at the Goron Hot Springs—it’s as inscrutable now as it was then, and Zelda is not sure what it could mean, if it means anything at all.

 

And, as before, he doesn’t seem to be even slightly embarrassed that he’s been caught. He merely continues to stare.

 

Zelda asks, though she knows the answer to it already, “Did you remember something?”

 

Link shakes his head. “No, not really,” he says. “Just the memory of emotions, with no memory to accompany them.”

 

“Oh?” Zelda says, and she’s suddenly nervous. “What kind of emotions?”

 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. A handful of them. They’re hard to discern—but I’ve never been good at knowing my emotions, only shutting them away.” He smiles, and it’s a bit sad. “It’s not the best thing to have done when you have amnesia. I think I’ve found a worthy imperfection.”

 

“Impossible,” she says, forcing herself to be light-hearted. It’s unsettling, seeing a fragment of sadness show upon his face. It’s out of place, and she closes the distance between them, needing to do something to comfort him. “I daresay those emotions will become known, sooner or later. Perhaps all they need is a little fleshing out.” She places a hand on one of his crossed ones. “Didn’t you say I’ve been helping you rediscover yourself? It just looks like we have a little more work to do, is all.”

 

His throat bobs in a swallow, and he glances down at their hands. He uncrosses one of his arms and turns his hand so that it rests inside of his own. “Yes,” he says, and he brushes her knuckles with his thumb before squeezing it. “You have, and you’re right.”

 

“When am I not?”

 

“I’m sure there are plenty of times I can’t remember.”

 

She laughs.

 

They make their way out of the shrine, climbing back down from the small cave the shrine was enclosed in and stopping for a quick lunch before continuing along the path through Hyrule Ridge. She smells the heavy, thick scent of rain wafting in from Ludfo’s Bog to their right, spying a few lightning strikes. She isn’t surprised to see that there are several clouds cluttering the afternoon sky, suggesting a light shower sometime in the near future.

 

As they pass by the Seres Scablands, Zelda admits, “I’ve always loved rainy weather. I used to play in all the puddles and mud pits when I was a child. It’s gray and dreary and gloomy, but it gives me a sense of calm, too. I’m not sure what it is.”

 

Link watches the storm brewing in the Thundra Plains and the encroaching clouds overhead. “I understand your meaning, Zelda, though I don’t love it as much as you do,” he smiles. “The rain has never bothered me in the sense that it’s gloomy or depressing. Mostly, it annoys me because it keeps me from climbing or getting where I want to go in regular time. I like the smell of storms, though,” he says. “If that counts.”

 

Zelda chuckles. “That doesn’t surprise me,” she says. “How dare it keep you from climbing all around Hyrule.”

 

“It’s true,” he says. “I hate waiting around for the rain to end. Sometimes it lasts _all day_.”

 

“That's tragic. I can’t believe you haven’t figured out a way to climb in the rain, yet.”

 

“It’s one of my many flaws.”

 

“Oh, shut up, Link!” she laughs, good-naturedly.

 

“Hey, Zelda,” he says, stopping his horse. She follows his lead.

 

“What is it?”

 

“The silent princess. There’s a small outcrop of them right there,” he says, pointing to their left.

 

Zelda grins widely. “Oh, let me take a look,” she says, dismounting her horse and quickly making her way to them. She falls to her knees in front of them, touching just underneath the petals like she’s tipping up someone’s chin. She glances around and counts half a dozen of them, clustered together like a family.

 

“They’re beautiful and _thriving_ ,” she says, gazing at each individual one, before she takes out the Slate and stands. She pulls up the camera function to take a picture and has to back up to get them all inside of the view box. She’s not sure when he followed her, but she ends up bumping into Link as she backs up.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

 

“Sorry.”

 

They both say it at the same time, Zelda looking at him over her shoulder. Link places a hand on the small of her back to keep her from losing her balance.

 

Zelda’s not sure why this small moment makes her blush furiously, but it does. Link being so close to her again, her feeling clumsy and awkward and not having anything at all to say to make it… _less_.

 

She turns her head quickly back to the Slate’s camera, attempting to concentrate on taking the perfect picture of the flowers. Link slowly takes his hand from her back, though he remains behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the picture—which doesn’t help matters at all.

 

A large thunderclap booms above them not moments later, and Zelda shrieks. Link laughs gently at her.

 

“It’s looking like it’s about to pour down on us,” he says, glancing at the darkening, gray and purple clouds. “We might be able to make it to the Tabantha Stable before we get caught in the rain.”

 

Zelda agrees, and puts the Slate away. They both go to mount their horses and begin to make their mad dash through the rest of the Scablands.

 

Thankfully, the rain hits when they are just a few yards away from the stable. However, the rainfall is not placid and gentle. It’s a deluge, and it plasters Zelda’s hair to her face within seconds. They’re both soaked to the bone after they board their horses, and Zelda can’t stop shivering once they’re inside the inn area. It only contains a few beds and no walls for privacy, so changing her clothes is out of the question.

 

The innkeeper is kind enough to offer towels to their guests, and there is a roaring fire in the pit in the middle of the room. Once Zelda wrings out and dries her hair as best she can, she goes to stand in front of the fire, rubbing her hands together to fight the chill and heat her clothes.  

 

After a few minutes, Link comes to stand by her. He surprises her by draping a dry towel over her shoulders. “You looked cold,” he says.

 

She smiles at him gratefully. “Yeah, freezing. You’re not?”

 

He shrugs. “A little. I changed clothing. I have a Snowquil armor set, if you’d like to wear the tunic. I’m sure it’ll fit you.”

 

She glances down and realizes he did change from his champion garb into his Hylian tunic and Snowquil trousers. They look so plush and warm, Zelda wants to immediately take up his suggestion, but she hesitates.

 

Link notices. “I can hold up a towel so nobody sees you while you change, princess.”

 

The first thought that runs through her mind at the offer is that there will only be a towel separating Link and her modesty. Then she rolls her eyes at how ridiculous she’s becoming.

 

“I would…really appreciate that Link. Thank you.”

 

She goes to her bed, and Link holds up the towel. She changes as quickly as she can, and as soon as the Snowquil hits her skin, she is instantly assaulted with a profound, soul-wrapping warmth. It’s deeply steeped with Link’s smell, too, and Zelda is bombarded with it with every inhale.

 

“I thought we could wait out the storm here,” Link says on the other side of the towel. “It’s almost evening, but Dinraal doesn’t fly through the canyon until around midnight. We could rest until then.”

 

Zelda changes pants, too. Thank the Goddess she packed more than one pair. Once she’s decent, she says, “Okay, I’m finished. And yes, that sounds just fine to me.”

 

Link removes the towel. Zelda takes a seat at the head of her bed, sighing with comfort. They both settle in, Zelda taking out the Slate to read over Robbie’s journal notes, and Link taking a seat in front of Zelda’s bed on the floor.

 

Zelda furrows her brows at the back of Link’s head, bemused. “Link, why aren’t you sitting on your bed? You don’t have to sit on the floor.”

 

Link looks back at her, then down at his seat. “I think it’s force of habit, princess,” he says, though it comes out as a slight inquiry.

 

“Yes…” Zelda answers. “You used to take up guarding my door or any opening in my room during our journeying. But you don’t have to do that now, Link. No Yiga is going to come attack us in this rain.”

 

“I…” Link starts. “I’d feel more comfortable being here instead of the bed. The bed is…too far away.”

 

Zelda looks over to his bed, but it’s only ten feet from her own. She shakes her head at him, deciding to say, “Oh, Link. I have plenty of room on my bed. Here.” She moves over to the edge of her bed on one side, and there’s ample space for two people. “That way you’ll be right beside me. And we’ll be here for a while, so might as well be comfortable.”

 

He stares at the spot beside her, then at her, and he seems uncertain and possibly bashful. It’s funny—any other time they’ve sat near each other, he hasn’t seemed to be bothered in the slightest. Then she realizes it must be because a bed is involved, and it would break a rule of decency. It doesn’t much bother Zelda. They’re fully clothed, for one thing. She smiles at him to assure him, and she thinks she sees a light blush coat his cheeks.

 

“Ah, alright. If you’re sure.”

 

“I’m sure,” she says, and he comes to sit beside her. His back his ramrod straight, and he’s very rigid as he leans against the backboard. There are still a few inches of breathing room between them, and Link crosses his arms, becoming a stalwart as he watches the room of the inn and the open entryway filled with sheets of rain.  

 

Zelda watches him for a moment before she goes back to reading over Robbie’s journal. Maybe the pattering of rain drops and the warmth of the fire will eventually relax him. Until then, she is happy to read over the Slate with Link beside her, the lovely sound of the storm filtering through the air. 


	10. x. In which Zelda sees a dragon, meets a Great Fairy, and Link learns the meaning to a song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are so nice with your comments. I love them so much, they literally make me want to cry and hug each and every one of you sweet darlings. You guys make me feel like an actual writer, it's insane and humbling all at once.
> 
> This chapter contains a ton of suggestive content and sexual innuendo. Since I have the general rating on the story (I don't think it really needs a higher warning as of now, anyway), I felt I should mention it somewhere. Also...sorry about the ending, but not really. Happy reading!

Zelda falls asleep.

 

Link watches as it happens. She reads for a straight half-hour before her blinks start to last longer and longer. She catches herself a few times, her head jerking up when it begins to droop. It’s not long after that when the clutches of sleep become too much for her. Her eyes close for longer, her head falls to the side, and her hands become lax against the Slate.  

 

Her head lands gently on his shoulder. A lock of hair falls out of her ear and across her face, and Link takes it upon himself to move it back. A sweet sigh escapes her when he touches her, and Link supposes he would let her use his shoulder for as long as she’d want him to.

 

She wakes up when the rain begins to taper off. It’s nearing eleven, and the moon is breaking through the clouds. He feels her stiffen for a moment, before she relaxes again. She sits up, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Link, I didn’t mean to use you. You should have told me to move,” she says, smiling sleepily.

 

He smiles back. “I didn’t mind,” he says. “You looked comfortable.”

 

She stretches out her arms. “Mm, I was. What time is it?”

 

“It’s nearing eleven,” he says. “The rain is stopping, too. I think it’ll be perfect timing to sit near the cliff and keep watch.”

 

“Perfect,” she says. She reaches over the side of the bed to her pack, grabbing a brush. She begins detangling her hair, and then sets about weaving her hair into a braid. It’s become one of her nightly rituals before they go to bed. It’s odd how hypnotic the motion is. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

 

They set out a few minutes later, walking the short distance to the cliff’s edge beside the Tabantha Great Bridge. Link makes a small fire for them while they wait.

 

“Did you know that you can use the shards from the dragons in crafting?” Link asks her as they settle in.

 

“No, I didn’t realize that,” Zelda says. “What kind of crafting?” She thinks a moment. “And how in the world do you get the shards?”

 

“They’re mainly for upgrading armor, like the star fragments I mentioned before,” he says. “You get them from shooting arrows at the part of the dragon you want the shard from. Don’t worry,” he adds. “It doesn’t hurt them.”

 

“Wow,” she says. “How do you shoot…” she trails. “I’m not sure I should ask.”

 

“I can show you,” he says, grinning at the thought. “Dinraal’s flames create a lot of updrafts. I use them to get close, and then aim and shoot. I have to wear the flamebreaker armor, too, or the proximity causes you to catch on fire.”

 

“Have you caught on fire before?”

 

“Once…or twice.”

 

“Oh, Link,” she says, shaking her head. Then she looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well, if you need a shard, then I’d suggest you get one tonight since we’re close to one of the Great Fairies,” she says.

 

Link muffles a groan. “You’re right. I do need a piece of Dinraal’s horn…” he trails. “Then I guess you’ll get to see how it’s done.”

 

“You better not miss,” she says.

 

“When do I ever?”

 

At midnight on the dot, Dinraal is seen coming over the mountain ridge and swooping down like a fiery snake into the line of the canyon. Zelda sharply inhales.

 

“Oh! He’s here!” She takes the Slate and zooms in. She sees the pulses of fire that come off him in bright, bursting clouds. She sees the glowing of his fangs and the sharp turns of his horns. He is a ribbon of orange and red, a firestorm in the night. Zelda sighs. While she’s distracted, Link changes into his armor.

 

“Beautiful,” she says.

 

“He is,” Link says behind her. “I wish we could ride them.”

 

Zelda laughs. “Of course, you’d want to ride a dragon.”

 

“You’ve got to admit, it would be fun.”

 

“I’m sure it would be, albeit very dangerous.” She looks back to him. “Oh. You changed…very quickly.”

 

“I have a lot of practice,” he says.

 

Dinraal is fast approaching, now. Link settles a few yards away from the edge of the cliff. Once he can feel the heat exuding off of Dinraal on his cheeks, Link says, “Be right back.”

 

He sprints and jumps into the gaping cavity of the canyon. He flies up with the paraglider, so close to Dinraal that he can clearly make out all of the details, from the pink streaks of his underbelly, and the molten lining of his scales around his jaw and neck. He reminds him of the rock faces in Death Mountain, his horns radiant and shining like jagged points submerged in lava. Link feels the hum of his power—the energy almost orchestral as it passes into Link’s bones.

 

Link is very small next to the monstrous width of the dragon. Once he’s in position, his paraglider disappears, and he whips out his bow. When he releases the arrow, it strikes true on one of Dinraal’s glowing horns. The shard gleams like a spotlight, falling away in an arch into the canyon below. It lands on a projecting ledge, approximately midway down the rock face. Link redirects himself and gently glides down towards it.

 

The night chill reappears against his skin once he’s too far out of range to share Dinraal’s warmth. Link appears minutes later, climbing over the edge of the cliff. He smiles when he sees her, pulling out the shard to show her.

 

“See?” he tells her, placing the small shard in her hand. It remains heated and lustrous, shining like a firefly, and the veins of orange in the black horn are dominant and striking.

 

“It’s still warm,” she says, her voice lilted in awe.

 

Link nods. “It stays warm. At least, no shard has ever cooled in my possession. Part of the soul lingers, I think.”

 

Zelda admires it for a minute more before handing it back to Link. He stows it in his pack, and takes off his firebreaker helmet.

 

“I know you’re somewhat rested from your nap earlier,” Link says. “We could practice more archery within distance of the stable, or we can go inside and wait until dawn. There’s also a shrine that we can explore. Your choice.”

 

Zelda ends up deciding on reading Robbie’s Journal inside the inn. “I think I’ll be able to read more than a few pages without falling asleep again,” she says blithely. Link takes up his roost beside her, once more, and he feels slightly more comfortable. Being in bed with a lady is improper if you’re not married or, in less severe circumstances, courting. It’s a value that he’s sure has been ingrained into him since birth. But since Zelda doesn’t mind in the least, Link allows himself to attempt not to care, either.

 

Besides, he thinks. Sharing her warmth is divine. It’s so divine, in fact, that Link permits his eyes to close. Earlier, he was concerned with staying alert and _being_ too alert. Now, he’s letting himself enjoy their quiet company. Zelda hums the occasional noise of deliberation or mumbles an “interesting” every now and again. He didn’t believe that he was tired from keeping watch—he’s certainly stayed awake much longer—but when he closes his eyes, he keeps them closed, and he eventually he lets his guard down enough to doze.

 

He wakes what feels like a minute later to the distant, musical tones of his name. He jerks his eyes open to see Zelda’s face in front of his, her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes are a shimmering teal, and she’s smiling at him. He forgets where they are.

 

“Zelda,” he says.

 

“You were sleeping so deeply, I had to shake you _and_ say your name.”

 

“Must’ve been too comfortable,” he says, voice gravelly. He rubs the sleep from his eyes.

 

“Mm, now you know how I felt,” she says, glancing over him. She has a peculiar look on her face.

 

“What?” he asks.

 

“Nothing,” she says, quickly shaking her head. “It’s just I haven’t seen you so peaceful since…you know, before. I’ve forgotten what it looks like.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it. “

 

“I’d like to,” she says. Then she glances away and ducks her head. “Well, now that you’re awake, I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”

 

They go to the Shae Loya shrine just off of the stables, first. It turns out to be a mix of exploring and dynamic archery practice all in one.

 

Like the last shrine they visited, there’s a rising platform that pushes them into the air. This time, however, it’s so they can aim at a crystal with a bow and arrow.

 

“Are you up to try it?” Link asks her, tone amused. Her face already shows the signs of defeat.

 

“ _Link_ ,” she emphasizes. “You know I can’t even hit a small object _without_ moving, much less flying up into the air.”

 

“Never know until you try,” he shrugs. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”

 

She glares at him, scoffing. “Whatever, hero, you know I don’t quit. _And_ you’re not going to rile me into doing it. I’m going to do it on my own authority.” She lifts her head up, haughty and regal. “Which is what I’m about to do right now.”

 

Link holds back a crooked smile. “Okay, Zelda.”

 

He watches as she settles the bow in her hands, glancing at the rising platform with pursed lips. She takes a breath before walking up to it.

 

“Just concentrate,” he tells her. “Don’t be discouraged.”

 

“Hm,” is all she says. _She’s probably thinking it’s easier said than done_ , he thinks. She gets on the platform when it lowers, then pulls back the arrow on her bow before it pushes her up the few feet into the air. When she shoots, it’s wide and low, off to the side but in the general direction of the crystal.

 

“Hey, not bad,” Link tells her truthfully. “Especially on your first—“

 

She stays on the platform, trying again. He doesn’t think she’s listening to a word he says, with her face puckered in intense concentration. The second arrow is less wide, still a little low. By the fifth time, it’s much closer to the crystal, hitting the back wall that’s encasing the crystal. And, miraculously, the seventh time she hits it. It changes from orange to blue, chiming with a victorious ping.

 

Link feels a prideful grin rip across his face.

 

“Zelda, that was fantastic.”

 

She does a little hop off the platform before it throws her up again, her cheeks rosy from the intensity of her focus. She gives him a smug smirk, her fulsome confidence hitting him like a ton of bricks.

 

“I’d say it was from the help of your teaching,” she says, “but I’d be lying.”

 

“Oh, really? I haven’t helped you at all?”

 

“You’ve helped, of course,” she says, placing the hand that isn’t holding the bow on her hip. “But I needed to shock you. That motivated me the most.”

 

“I wouldn’t say I’m shocked, because I knew you could do it,” Link answers, and before she can reply, he says, “But I am shocked it only took you seven tries.”

 

Her mouth closes, and she dazzles him with a smile.

 

“Now, if I could only hit that damn apple, I’d feel much better about my abilities.”

 

“Your stubbornness alone will make it fall over, eventually.”

 

They head out a few minutes later, after Zelda gets all of her pictures. They cross the Tabantha Great Bridge and follow the path in between the tall, surrounding cliffs. Link’s always liked Tabantha. It holds a strange nostalgia for him, and though he’s uncertain as to why, the passageway feels like an open welcoming. He glances to Zelda, and he’s not sure he wants to ask why he feels this way.

 

Instead, he tilts his head to their left. “I can see your resentment from here,” he says, light-hearted. Zelda furrows her brows before she glances up to see the shrine. Her face softens.

 

“Ah, yes, when all I wanted was to be alone,” she says. “I was such a teenager back then.”

 

“I think we’re still teenagers, Zelda.”

 

“You know what a mean,” she says, giving him a look. “I was so petulant and thought only of myself.”

 

“You were painfully unhappy,” he says. “I guess I didn’t know what else to do besides bring you cake and save you from certain death.”

 

He surprises a laugh out of her. “By all accounts, you chose wisely.”

 

He smiles. “You want to go see the shrine? There’s not much to this one, but it’s one you haven’t seen before.”

 

Zelda agrees readily, and they go around the cliff up the path to the landing.

 

“It’s aptly called a Major Test of Strength, like you were back then,” he tells her as they enter. She shoves him, and he chuckles. “There are several like these, but different levels. There are ones that are minor and medium tests of strength, as well.”

 

“What differentiated them from major, medium, and minor?”

 

“The guardian opponent,” he explains. “They would be different guardian scouts, with different amounts of strength and attacks. There would always only be one to defeat.”

 

Zelda hums a noise, taking in the large expanse of the battlefield, glancing at the broken and still intact columns, the scorch marks along the floor. She takes a few pictures here and there, but is otherwise distracted by the debris littering the ground and the designs along the walls.

 

When they leave, they continue the path toward the fountain. Zelda consults the Slate when Link trudges past the cliffs leading to where they need to go.

 

“Link, where are you going?” she calls from behind him. “We need to start climbing here!”

 

Link looks over to her. “It’s a difficult climb from here. It’s actually much easier if we glide from the top of the Tower,” he says, pointing. He _is_ being truthful, he thinks, as he watches Zelda grow more and more suspicious.

 

“Are you _sure_ you’re not doing this just to get out of going to see her?”

 

Link sighs. He’s only dreading the visit because Zelda will be right there, watching. “As much as I’d like to, no. It is an easier climb, though it’s longer. But we can climb here, if you’re up to it, Zelda.”

 

“Oh,” she says, grinning slyly. “I’m up to it.”

 

By the time they get to the landing, the Great Fairy’s open flower exuding beautiful aromas and surrounded by silent princesses and smaller fairies, Zelda has her hands on her knees, panting heavily.

 

“Okay, fine,” she concedes, as if they had been arguing about something beforehand. “You were right. I’m sure the other climb was much easier.”

 

“But we got here much faster, and the sooner we’re here, the sooner we can leave.” He looks at her. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, yes,” she waves a hand, catching her breath. “I’m fine, just not as in shape as you. Now,” she continues, placing her hands on her hips and bounding past him up the small steps. “Let’s meet the fairy!”

 

He follows behind her, coming to stand on the landing.

 

“How do we call her?” she asks, curiously trying to look into the pool. “Can she hear us, or do we throw something in there?”

 

Link shakes his head. “No, she’ll come up on her own. I think she senses when a male is nearby.”

 

As if on cue, the water in the pool ripples, increasing in waves and bubbles. Zelda grins widely, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

 

Kaysa then bursts out from the depths, splashing them both with an abundance water droplets.

 

“Ah-HAAAAAAAA!!” she exclaims, flicking her pompadour of hair back from her face. Link has never gotten used to how blinding her jewels sparkle and how extravagant her appearance is.

 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite visitor!” she says, eying him without restraint or decorum. Link’s always felt very, very small when under the Great Fairies’ observations.

 

Her eyes alight on Zelda, and then she pouts. “You’ve brought a guest! And a pretty one, at that. Hm. You’ve given me some fair competition, haven’t you?” Kaysa laughs as brightly as her jewels, and Link smiles uncomfortably, avoiding a glance at Zelda. “Oh, I’m kidding, of course!”

 

“Er, Kaysa, this is my friend, Zelda. She’s been wanting to meet you,” Link says.

 

“Oh! You’ve even told her stories about me! I knew you liked me, boy.” She winks, then turns to Zelda. “Nice to meet you, dearie. You’re the first Hylian woman I’ve seen in over a hundred years!”

 

Zelda bows her head. “It’s a pleasure, Kaysa. I’ve always wondered if the legends were true about the Great Fairies’ beauty and power.”

 

“I’m sure you’ve seen my power in Link’s upgraded armor,” she says. “And don’t tell my sister’s, but I’m the most beautiful out of all of them.” She laughs again, looking between the both of them. “I’m sure Link could vouch for me, couldn’t you?”

 

He can’t say that she _isn’t_ pretty. Just a bit…gaudy.

 

“Of course, I can, Kaysa,” he says, trying to smile charmingly. She hums at him.

 

“Oh, I do love it when you smile. So easy on the eyes. He’s such a handsome young man, isn’t he, Zelda?”

 

Zelda seems caught off-guard at the question. “Oh, I—um—I suppose he is.”

 

Link looks over at her, but she’s glancing at the ground, tucking in a piece of her hair behind her ear. He wonders if she means it.

 

Kaysa purrs interestedly, placing her chin in her hand and looking down at Zelda. “My, my, you’re blushing! You wouldn’t have a crush on my Link, would you?”

 

Zelda freezes, her eyes wide. Link takes pity on her and intervenes.

 

“I brought a piece of armor for you to upgrade for me, Kaysa,” Link says, rummaging through his pack to pull it out. “Along with the piece of Dinraal’s horn.”

 

Kaysa, her attention quickly diverted, smiles brightly at him.

 

“Perfect!” she cries. “After this upgrade, it will be at its full strength. Are you ready?”

 

Link swallows. As ready as he’d ever be. He turns to Zelda, saying, “This’ll last just a minute or two.” Then he faces Kaysa and nods.

 

“Wait,” Zelda says, looking between them. “What exactly is going to happen?”

 

Link opens his mouth to say something like _forcefully fondled_ , but that may leave more questions than answers for Zelda. He’s not even sure he can breach the topic without choking on a paralyzing humiliation.

 

Kaysa voices before he can. “Oh, that’s between me and the boy,” she titters, winking. She glances back to Link. “You know the drill. Close your eyes…”

 

Zelda seems a little concerned. Link shakes his head at her. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

 

“But—“

 

“I’ll take good care of him,” Kaysa smiles wildly, and then she grabs Link in a swift scoop, bringing him to the side of her face in a suffocating hug—he’ll never get used to the feeling—and then taking him with her into her depthless pool. He holds back his shout for Zelda’s sake as he’s pulled into the abyss, the darkness consuming him, and he promptly goes unconscious.

 

Link is never quite sure what happens—he’s not sure how he breathes (it’s more than likely fairy magic), and he’s not sure what the fairies really do with him. But they must have their way with him…somehow. He’s never figured out the mechanics (though, he admits, he’s spent substantial time on contemplation).

 

It always feels a bit traumatic when he wakes up, warm, spent, tingly, and euphoric, lying prone on the platform where he’d been taken.

 

“Link!” Zelda says, and he can detect fear in her voice. “Are you okay? What did she do to you?”

 

“’S fine,” he slurs. He goes to stand up, and Zelda stands right next to him.

 

“You don’t look fine, or sound fine,” Zelda says, her brows falling over her eyes. She’s very pretty when she’s serious, he thinks. “You’re all…sparkly. And,” she says, raising the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up.” She looks to Kaysa. “What did you do?”

 

“Now, now little lioness,” Kaysa says, giggling. “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t do. Or should I say, I did everything you’d _like_ to do.” She gives Zelda a knowing look, and Zelda’s cheeks heat up into a becoming shade of crimson. Link wonders if it’s the wording that makes her blush, or if it’s because Kaysa’s words are correct. He is suddenly very curious.

 

“You mean—did you—you didn’t—!” Zelda says, struggling to get any descriptive words out. Instead, she closes her mouth, and she seems to silently fume beside him. He wants to reach out to her to calm her down, but he’s not sure if she’ll take his arm off instead.

 

“Any other armor you’d like me to enhance?” she asks Link.

 

Thank Hylia that was the only piece he needed. He shakes his head.

 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Kaysa says, frowning. “I’m sad to see you go. Come back soon, hm?” She lifts her arms up. “Ta-ta! Ah-hahaaaa!” she booms, twirling back into the pool in a spray of crystal droplets.

 

Link sighs. “So, uh…”

 

Zelda rounds on him, pointing an accusing finger at his face. “You didn’t tell me she would take you in there, and…and… _do things_ to you!”

 

He leans away from her finger, holding up his hands in a placating motion. “Uh…I told you they’re handsy.”

 

“Yes, but I didn’t think they would…do _that_!” she says, her voice climbing in pitch.

 

“Well, I honestly don’t know what they do,” he tells her. “I blackout as soon as they take me into the pool.”

 

Zelda scoffs, disbelieving. “That’s convenient.”

 

Link opens and closes his mouth. “It’s true.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Zelda—“

 

“At least you’ve maximally upgraded your armor, though, right?”

 

Link furrows his brows at her. Her face is still flushed with anger.

 

“Why are you acting this way?” he asks. “It’s not as though it’s anything physically damaging.” He looks down at himself, noticing the amplified radiance of his skin.

 

“Because they use your body as a _toy_ ,” she says. “And you _let_ them.”

 

“Yeah, because I want great armor,” he says. “And I think it’s helpful to me, too. I always feel refreshed and clear-headed after, and look. I literally glow.”

 

This does not do anything to calm Zelda like he thinks it will. In fact, it only seems to rile her more.

 

“Well, I’m glad it makes you happy,” she says. It’s so insincere, it’s laughable, but Link’s not sure what to do to handle it.

 

“I warned you,” he says, deciding to take a lighter, teasing path. “Those Great Fairies are pretty demanding.”

 

“Should’ve listened.” She looks over to him. “Sorry.”

 

He watches her as they walk away, back down the cliff and to the path. She’s a little stiff and distracted and very unlike herself.

 

Once they’re fixed on the path again, Link comes to the conclusion that she is not angry at all.

 

“Zelda…” he begins. “Are you _jealous_?”

 

“No,” she says forcefully and immediately. Link smirks to himself. Zelda sees it. “I am not! There’s no reason I can see that would make me, princess of Hyrule, jealous of an oversized, egotistical fairy.”

 

“Okay,” he says, and he lets it go. It’ll be good ammunition for teasing later, but he doesn’t want to keep needling at her when her face is so sour.

 

“What armor did you upgrade, by the way? I never asked,” she says.

 

“It was for my barbarian head set,” he says. “But I also want to upgrade new armor I found recently. Have you heard of Misko?”

 

Zelda thinks for a moment. “No, I don’t believe I have. Who is he?”

 

“He’s an infamous bandit,” he explains. “He stole several sets of armor from Hyrule Castle, back in the day. He left behind notes with hints to where his stolen armor sets were located, so I went to find them.”

 

Zelda is very curious—he can tell. “Did you find all of them?”

 

Link nods.

 

“You must tell me about them the next time we stop,” she says. “I’d love to see them. I’m not sure I was even aware of historical armor sets being stolen.”

 

“I’m sure King Rhoam kept it from you, to keep you from concerning yourself, princess.”

 

“Hm,” she says. “Perhaps you’re right.”

 

They continue along, making their way past Strock Lake, crossing the Kolami Bridge. The air gets chillier as they go, crisp and biting with the breezes. Along the ridge, the dark green forests dot the landscape, flourishing with color against the harsher, white backdrop of Hebra lingering along the edges of their vision.

 

Link gets the nostalgic feeling, again. Perhaps he lived here, once, he thinks, a home among the cliffs or the forests, with the chilly, gentle winds at his back. Or, maybe, he never lived here at all.

 

“Zelda,” he says, deciding to ask her, looking off toward Strock Lake. “Did I come from Tabantha? I mean, did I grow up here?”

 

“No, you didn’t,” she says. “You grew up in Deya Village, in the Faron region, but spent a lot of time in Zora’s Domain, as you know already. Your mother lived here for a while, though.” She looks over to him. “Do you remember something?”

 

He frowns, and at the mention of his mother, he feels a gentle wave of sorrow. It fills his stomach like a bitter cake, coating his throat with the aftertaste. “No,” he says. “I don’t remember anything.”

 

“Oh.” Zelda smiles sadly. “I wish I could tell you about her. Unfortunately, I never got to meet her before…before she passed away. You got to see her one last time before taking up your position as my guard. You told me she was very proud of you, but then, how could she not be?”

 

He loved his mother very much. He knows it as naturally as the grass is green, and as the lakes are blue. Longing strikes him with a beautiful, powerful force.

 

“I wish I had a picture,” he admits. “Something to illicit a memory, maybe, but mostly so I could see her.”

 

Zelda inhales deeply. “I’m sorry, Link.”

 

“No, thank you for telling me,” he says, his voice a bit gruff. “Who knows. Maybe she’ll visit me in a dream.”

 

Zelda smiles at this. “That would be very nice, if she did.”

 

They make it to Rito Stable in the afternoon. Link makes them lunch, and Zelda buys more arrows.

 

“Strange,” Zelda says once they finish eating, consulting the Slate. “It seems as though this is one of the only stables without a shrine nearby.”

 

“Not sure why that is,” Link answers her. “There are two straight down the path if we continue to follow it. Otherwise, there’s only one in Rito Village.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind exploring those.”

 

“I know you wouldn’t,” Link says. “First, we can speak to the chieftain, Kaneli, before we check out Vah Medoh. I’d also like you to meet Teba and Kass, while we’re here. Teba is very ambitious, and he may be a descendant to Revali. He’s following his footsteps for the Rito’s strongest warrior and leader. I’m not sure if Kass will be here—he travels a lot. But if he is, I think you’d like him.”

 

Zelda beams. “I’m excited to meet all of them. Let’s go.”

 

They walk along all three bridges toward the mainland of Rito Village. Zelda makes vocal observations, like she always does.

 

“I’ve always thought every region was fascinating, but the freedom the Rito have in flying and without the whole burden of gravity is one of my favorite things, here. What is it like to soar, I wonder?”

 

“The paraglider is a poor man’s substitute,” Link says. “Maybe Teba will take you for a ride, if you tell him you’ve personally met Revali.”

 

Zelda laughs. “I don’t know if he’d believe me, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

 

They climb the spiral of ramps up to the chieftain’s small house. Kaneli is present, and he greets them with a surprised delightfulness.

 

“Hello again, Link. It’s wonderful to see you! Calamity has been destroyed, and everything has become so peaceful around here.” He glances behind him. “I see you’ve brought a lovely young lady, as well.”

 

“That’s great to hear,” Link nods. “Yes, this is Zelda. Zelda, Rito chieftain Kaneli. He was a great help when I came to help out with Vah Medoh. Speaking of which, we’ve come by to check on Vah Medoh. Is he still in good standing?”

 

Kaneli gives a great nod of his head, his braided feathers reaching his feet. “Vah Medoh has not made a peep after sending the blast at Ganon.”

 

“Would you allow us to visit him, just to check diagnostics and his condition?” Zelda says. Kaneli looks over her for a long moment, and Zelda shifts her weight.

 

“Forgive me for my curiosity, but if I’m correct with Hyrulean history, the princess was locked away with Ganon for one hundred years. You have…an aura about you, Zelda. I’m not sure it is possible for any Hylian to live that long in a battle, but if anyone could, it would be the heart of a princess sworn to protect her lands.” Kaneli raises his eyebrows, and Link looks at Zelda, unsure what to say.

 

Zelda, unguarded, turns a little pale. She recovers nicely, straightening her back and opening her shoulders. She looks every bit a queen with the actions. Link doesn’t think it’s helping to dissuade Kaneli.

 

“I agree with you, chieftain,” she says. “But who would believe such a story? A princess, living through a hundred year battle?” She shakes her head. “It would be myth or legend, written in history as a maybe. The Zorans would believe, I think, but the other species whose lives are shorter and the history scrambled and lost…” She looks at Kaneli and holds his eyes. “Perhaps this could be a secret between us, for now?”

Kaneli’s eyes alight, looking at her more closely, observing her with his old wisdom. “Ah. I knew I saw royalty in you, Princess Zelda. What an honor to meet you.” He bows his head deeply in reverence.

 

“Oh,” Zelda says. “That is quite unnecessary, chieftain—“

 

“Kaneli, please.”

 

“Then you must call me Zelda.”

 

He comes to stand, smiling widely at her. “Of course. Then, Link, this must mean you braved the castle and saved her. I can only assume you are the hero’s descendant?”

 

He blinks, looking to Zelda for confirmation. Zelda answers. “No, not the descendant. The hero.”

 

Kaneli looks a bit shocked. “You must forgive me. This whole time I assumed who you were, and never once believed who you could be.”

 

Link shakes his head. “No need to apologize, Kaneli. I wouldn’t have been able to live up to the title back then, even if I tried.”

 

Zelda sighs at him, shaking her head in exasperation. “Don’t believe his modesty for one second, Kaneli. Once a hero, always a hero.”

 

Kaneli’s eyes sparkle. “Indeed. Well, consider me truly humbled. Thank you, you two. Without you, none of us would exist. And to answer your question, yes, of course, you can check on Vah Medoh.”

 

Zelda bows her head politely, and Link follows her lead.

 

“Please, enjoy your stay here,” Kaneli says. “I will waive the inn fee.”

 

“We really appreciate that,” Link answers. “Oh, and before we go, do you know if Kass and Teba are in town? I noticed Teba’s house is vacant.”

 

“Yes, Kass is on one of the fly landings with his children. Teba is at the Flight Range with his son. It seems he never tires of the place.”

 

Link nods. “I might have guessed. Thank you.”

 

As they leave, Link says to Zelda, “I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d tell him.”

 

“I didn’t think I would, either,” she admits. “But…he seemed trustworthy, and he already believed. He brought it up on his own. If he didn’t, I’m sure I would have denied it.”

 

“I agree with you,” he says. “I wouldn’t worry much. There will be a day when everyone knows you’re the princess, and you’ll retake your throne.”

 

“Yes…” Zelda says, but she does not look confident. “Someday. But, for now, I’m happy to spend the afternoon looking over the Divine Beast.”

 

Link takes her to one of the fly landings to perform Revali’s Gale. “This will be the easiest way to get up to Medoh,” he explains. She climbs onto his back, and they are taken up very high on the cliff. Link lands on a ledge, and they climb the rest of the way.

 

“Phew, I forget how thin the air is here,” Zelda says. It’s the second time Link’s seen her out of breath in the span of the day. He can’t hide the amusement that appears on his face.

 

“I swear, Link,” Zelda says, catching the look on his face. “Don’t even think about teasing me. I’ll push you off.”

 

He laughs at this. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

 

After running the preliminary diagnostics and overviewing the relevant data through the Slate, everything comes up just as it had for Vah Ruta, and, they assume, what it would have shown for Vah Rudania. All three in a seemingly peaceful, deep sleep.

 

As she ends her readings, she looks around them. She peeks her head over the cliff’s edge, but comes back quickly. Link already has an arm there for her.

 

She glances at him. “Do you hear that?”

 

Link listens. He closes his eyes until he hears the delicate chorus of voices. He opens his eyes, giving Zelda a smile.

 

“Those are Kass’ daughters. They’re very talented singers.”

 

Zelda beams. “Oh, it’s lovely, even from up here.”

 

“Then let’s go listen to them up close,” Link says, kneeling. Zelda hurriedly gets on his back again, and they paraglide down to the landing with the five brightly colored Rito children.

 

The girls continue their song even as Link and Zelda land near them. Zelda goes to sit a bit away and in front of them, acting as an audience. Link follows and sits beside her.

 

“They harmonize so well,” she comments, soft and under her breath. “I wonder who taught them?”

 

“Their father is a musician. He plays very well.”

 

“Kass?” she asks excitedly. Link nods.

 

“Yes. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

 

The girls fill the air up with joy and peace, the tone all at once soothing with the low notes and exhilarating with the high.

 

As the song comes to an end, a shadow flies above them. Kass, in his bright blue feathered glory, lands in front of the line of his daughters. He gestures to them with pride.

 

“Just beautiful, girls. It gets better and better each time I hear it.”

 

The girls bounce with excitement. The blue one, Cree, if Link remembers correctly, makes a disgruntled noise.

 

“I messed up!” she cries.

 

“No, you didn’t, Kheel did. She can’t ever get the part in the middle,” says Genli, the green one.

 

“Hey!” Kheel exclaims. “That’s not true! I’ve been perfecting it for weeks!”

 

“Now, now children,” Kass says, patting Kheel and Genli on their heads. “Perfection is impossible, but you all are sounding very close to it. You all have wonderful voices.”

 

“Thanks, dad,” they all coo in unison.

 

“Now, go play,” he says, shooing them toward the village. “You’ve practiced all day. Go harass the other villagers.”

 

They giggle, hopping over each other and rushing toward the ramps. Kass chuckles as they go, crossing his arms. They look empty without his accordion, Link thinks, even with it attached to his back.

 

Kass’ eyes land on them, and he swivels toward them. Link goes to stand, and so does Zelda.

 

“Oh, Link!” Kass says, recognizing him right away. “We meet yet again. It’s good to see you well after the defeat of Ganon. I must thank you,” he says, bowing to him. “When I saw the Malice shroud surrounding the castle dissipate, I knew you had been successful.”

 

Link grins. ”Of course, Kass. You didn’t doubt, did you?”

 

“I had a feeling you would defeat Ganon, so I could write a song specifically for you.” His eyes rove over to Zelda. Kass blinks.

 

“Kass, this is Zelda. Zelda, Kass,” Link says. Zelda walks up to him to shake his hand, but is stopped by his words.

 

“You wrested her from evil’s den,” he says in awe, quoting from his teacher’s song. “I’m not surprised, but to see her in real time...” Kass drops to a kneel. “It’s an honor to meet you, Princess Zelda.”

 

“Oh, no, please, you must stand. I need none of your reverence. Call me Zelda,” she says, and Kass hesitantly does as he’s told, coming to stand. She beams at him. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she says. “Link has told me you’re a musician, and that your songs tell stories about Hyrule’s history.”

 

“Why, yes,” Kass says, and he seems to be ridiculously flattered. “It is as though my reputation precedes me, and I didn’t know I had a reputation.”

 

“Well, I do love history, and I love music, too. I believe you know that already,” she smiles. “It seemed destined that I would become your biggest fan.”

 

Kass laughs heartily at that. “Then I must play you a song! What would you most like to hear? I have one about the past and present Calamity, mentioning you both, and one about each of the champions.”

 

She clasps her hands together. “To know that my family’s poet was your teacher makes me feel as though I know you already.”

 

Kass nods happily. “My teacher told me many, many stories about the family, and even more about you. He spent a great deal of time with you, and he accompanied you to survey shrines and ancient technology, which I’m sure you remember. He was quite fond of you.”

 

Link watches as Zelda glances to the wooden boards of the platform. “Yes...I was fond of him, as well, but I’m afraid I broke his heart.”

 

”Not to worry. He understood, though if I’m bold enough to say, he loved you the rest of his life,” he says, fanning some feathers on his wing. Kass reads her well, but Zelda doesn’t do much to hide her conflicted feelings. “Please don’t feel guilty, Zelda,” Kass tells her. “He wouldn’t want that.”

 

“Oh,” Zelda blinks. “Yes. You’re quite right.”

 

Before the mention of the royal family's bard, Link had not spent much time on the thought that Zelda would have had suitors in the past. In fact, he's never imagined her with anyone. His memories were so full of her presence, he assumed hers were the same. 

 

Link has an odd grip on his stomach. She was forced to ignore courtships, and she was denied the time to foster relationships. Link and Zelda were put together because they were duty-bound, not because they wanted to be. Their time together also forged their friendship, but it had been manufactured from their circumstances. It doesn't bother her now—not any of it. But it saddens him how much of her life was stolen from her. 

 

Kass bows his head. “What song would you like to hear?”

 

“All of them,” Zelda answers, immediately, her hands still threaded together. “Please,” she adds.

 

Kass almost preens with her attention. Link’s never seen him act so happy to play for someone. The thought suddenly hits him that Zelda may have acted the same way towards her bard. His stomach nags.

 

“Alright. I’ll start with the story of when Calamity occurred ten thousand years ago...”

 

Kass gently passes his feathers over his accordion keys. He plays the notes with finesse, the tones reverberating through them. Link always loved the songs—whenever he came upon Kass in his travels, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear him play.

 

The notes tell a story all their own, but the words he sings meld with the brassy tune of his accordion, and he watches Zelda close her eyes, transported back into the beating heart of history.

 

Zelda claps with vigor when the song is finished. Link smiles at her.

 

Kass moves into his teacher’s song, continuing the story of the present Calamity. Link is sure to watch Zelda throughout the whole song, to observe all her reactions.

 

It begins with mentioning Link, and Zelda glances at him with a glint in her eye. “I didn’t realize he had a song about both of us.”

 

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

 

_“An ancient hero,”_ Kass sings, stroking the keys. _“A Calamity appears,_  
_Now resurrected after 10,000 years._

_“Her appointed knight gives his life_  
_Shields her figure, and pays the price._

_“The princess's love for her fallen knight awakens her power,_  
_And within the castle the Calamity is forced to cower.”_

Zelda’s face pales instantaneously.

 

_“But the knight survives! In the Shrine of Resurrection he sleeps,_  
_Until from his healing dream he leaps!_

_“For Fierce and deadly trials await,_  
_To regain his strength. Fulfill his fate._

_“To become a hero once again!_  
_To wrest the princess from evil's den._

_“The hero, the princess–hand in hand–_  
_Must bring the light back to this land.”_

Zelda claps at the end, with a notable, lessened vigor than the previous song. Her body has shrunk away from him in the last few verses, and she is so uncomfortable, Link can almost physically feel it. She avoids his stare, her face stone and inscrutable.

 

“Beautiful, Kass. That was…very good,” she says slowly, as if thinking about her words.

 

“My teacher would be thrilled. He tried to keep the story as close to the true depiction as he could. Shall I carry on with the champions’ ballads?” Kass asks, eager to continue.

 

Zelda smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Actually, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll…just be a moment, and then I’ll be back to listen to them all.”

 

She goes to stand, and Link follows. She seems a little agitated, but she turns away from him. “Link,” she says, cold and short. “Stay here. I won’t be gone long, and I won’t go far.”

 

“Zelda—“

 

“Please,” she says. It’s the desperation in her voice that causes Link to take a step back, and he lets her walk away. He knew something like this might happen—Zelda, defenseless and unguarded, enjoying the music until suddenly jarred with the revealing nature of the song. He wasn’t sure if it was an embellishment. After all, people _love_ love. A love story within saving the world is even better.

 

By Zelda’s reaction, the words are ringing truer. Link suspected, but he didn’t want to come to any assumptions where Zelda was concerned. Now that it is almost definitively true, however, Link can’t pinpoint how he feels.

 

He sighs.

 

“Trouble?” Kass asks gently behind him. Link turns, realizing he must have witnessed the entire scene.

 

“Something like that,” Link admits.

 

“Well, us Rito know a little about romance. We mate for life, you know,” he winks. Link unconsciously rubs at the back of his neck. “Every day since Ganon’s defeat, we celebrate with dancing, flying, and music beginning at sunset.” Kass looks out to the horizon. “It won’t be long before I begin playing songs, and the village dances. I’ll be playing here on this platform where it projects through the village the best. The acoustics are marvelous. Find her and ask her to dance. She can dance beautifully—I’ve been told,” he says, smiling. “Everything will fall into their places, if you let them.”

 

Link nods to him, and Kass leaves him alone with his thoughts. He sits on the platform, watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky, turning into the gorgeous orange and pink and purple of dusk.

 

When he can wait no longer, he stands to go and find his princess. 


	11. xi. In which Zelda teaches Link how to dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 99% sure this chapter will give you all type 2 diabetes, just heads up.
> 
> I decided to approximate 20 chapters for this story, just to give myself some semblance of a goal. I'm not sure if that's accurate, because it really depends on the other geographic locations they visit, how long the chapters will be, etc. I'm hoping to finish this within the next few months! 
> 
> Thank you again for all the support, ideas, and motivation. LOVE YOU GUYS.  
> Happy reading!~

“I love salmon,” little Kheel states, sitting poised and ready to launch her beak into the pond. “My favorite meal is salmon meuniere. Have you ever tried it?”

 

Zelda sits beside her, watching the salmon dart, then relax, then dart again.

 

“I haven’t,” she says, distracting herself by watching Kheel. Zelda knows her time is limited. Even now, she’s not sure Link heeded her words. He may be hiding behind a rock for all she knows, or perhaps watching her from above on a cliff or treetop.

 

“Oh, you need to, miss!” Kheel exclaims. “It’s so delicious and wonderful, and it’ll cure whatever ails you!”

 

_I highly doubt that,_ she thinks wryly.

 

“Maybe I’ll try it before I leave.”

 

“You must!” Kheel says, before she dives into the pond. Zelda observes as Kheel struggles to grab a fish, chasing it around until she comes up for air. Exhausted, she floats along the surface of the water. “Foo,” she mumbles.

 

Zelda aches to join her—to float along the water and away, sinking into the depths of the cool pond and hiding forever. She’s being childish and cowardly, but she lets herself be selfish for this moment of time because that’s all she’s going to get before marching into confrontation. She wishes she could have confessed on her own time, with her own courage. _It’s still too soon,_ she thinks. He still needs to recover more of himself, to know himself. There are so many pieces missing. It’s selfish of her to place the burden of her love upon him so presently.

 

_He heard the song before,_ a part of her mind reminds her. _He knew this whole time_.

 

_Still,_ another part of her argues _. It doesn’t matter. It should not be a concern to him._

 

But it’s difficult to ignore it, in all aspects. It’s such a vital part to the story. She huffs, bringing her knees up to her chest. She imagines how the conversation will go.

 

_Please, don’t concern yourself about the song, Link. It just so happens that my love for you saved the entire world. It’s no big deal._

 

Kheel tries a few more times to grab the salmon before she glances up into the air. She squeaks. “Oh, it’s starting!” she says, coming out of the pond and flicking the water off her feathers in a quick shake.

 

Zelda looks around and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, asks, “What’s starting?”

Kheel is already halfway up the bridge toward the village. “The celebration!” She continues running, and she’s out of sight before Zelda can ask anything else.

 

“Celebration?” she says, looking towards the village. She glances up to one of the fly platforms, but the angle makes it hard to distinguish any of the figures present. She doesn’t see anyone around the lower levels of the village, either.

 

The music filters down, hitting her ears, first. The echo of conversations follow, leading into long shadows of Rito flying above her. She glances up to them, and they fly like they’re dancing, in a lackadaisical, rhythmic motion. They loop-de-loop and spiral around each other in pairs or singles. The actions are joyful and happy, carefree against the falling sun.

 

She hears his boots before he fully crosses the bridge to the landmass. A weighty sigh leaves her body, and she resigns herself to what may be a hopelessly awkward and broken friendship.

 

_Don’t be so dramatic,_ she thinks, but a bundle of nerves flutter up her stomach nonetheless.

 

“There you are,” he says. His tone is…upbeat and genial. It wouldn’t surprise her if he tries to distract her from the obvious. If he does, it will be a sweet mercy on his part.

 

She stands, threading her fingers together as she manages to look upon his face. He looks for all the world unconcerned. Relaxed. The way she wants him to feel. It almost seems too good to be true, so Zelda doesn’t believe any of it.

 

“A celebration is starting?” she asks, gesturing above them.

 

Link nods. “Since Calamity was vanquished, they celebrate every evening beginning at sunset. Kass leads with music while everyone dances or flies or celebrates in their own way.” He motions toward the village. “Would you like to join them? The music is heard much better over here.”

 

It’s a wonderful diversion. Zelda glances from Link to the village, and she can see more Rito along the lower levels, now, dancing along to the beat.

 

“Why not,” she says, and Link leads them back to the heart of the Rito Village. Zelda is taken aback by how many Rito are contributing to the celebration. Couples nuzzle their necks, while many others bump into each other in good spirits, laughing and carrying along, some holding mugs full of drink.

 

“Kass told me you’re a great dancer,” Link says when they stop in the landing of the main rock of the village. The music is very alive in this location, and it soothes her in a way that only music can.

 

“I know how to dance, but I won’t win any awards,” she says.

 

Link smiles at her. “Who’s being modest, now?” he asks, and Zelda only shakes her head at him.

 

“I was forced into dancing lessons, but it’s not like I ever got to use the skills.”

 

“Well, how about today? Right now?” Link takes a step toward her. “I don’t think I ever learned, but I’m becoming inspired by the atmosphere.” He tips his head. “I want to learn from the best.”

 

Zelda doesn’t hide her suspicion. This reeks of an ulterior motive, and she knows the song is fresh in both their minds. But…

 

But.

 

Zelda glances up at all of the happy, cheerful, untroubled faces around them, and she thinks, _what could it hurt?_

 

“Alright,” she says. Link grins at the answer, obviously delighted. “Just try to follow me the best that you can.”

 

“Got it,” he says dutifully.

 

“So, for the general position,” she says, coming to stand in front of him. “You’ll put this hand on my hip.” She takes his right and places it. “I’ll put mine on your shoulder. And then we put our free hands together.”

 

There’s a wide, manufactured rift between their bodies with Zelda’s arm fully stretched out, and she is quite happy with that.

 

“Kass is playing a waltz,” she says, listening. “Do you hear the three-count beat? The one-two-three, one-two-three underneath the main harmony?”

 

Link takes a moment before he nods.

 

“What we’ll do is follow that beat. When I step forward, you step back, okay?”

 

“Okay,” he says, focusing on their feet.

 

“So, one,” she steps forward, and he follows her back. “Two…three. Just like that, but we keep it continuous.”

 

“Then let’s try it,” he says. They begin, Link following the beat very well. He catches onto the music quickly, and she doesn’t know why she thought it would take him longer than a few minutes to get. It’s kind of disgusting how good he is at everything, but it’s also very attractive.

 

“Alright. So, one-two-three, one-two-three…” she says, trailing once they fall into an easy rhythm. “I’m impressed. You haven’t stepped on me, once.”

 

“Of course, I haven’t,” Link says, smiling at her. He occasionally looks to their feet, as if he’s concentrating. “Kass played this song all the time when I ran into him during my travels. I’ve always enjoyed it.”

 

“It’s soothing,” she agrees. “And lovely. I could listen to him all day.”

 

“Does he play as well as the royal family’s bard did?”

 

Zelda blinks at the question. She reaches far back into her memory for the answer. Eventually, she says, “It’s hard to say. They’re both wonderful musicians, but they’re also both different in the way they strike their notes and how they play. Either way, he would be very proud of Kass.”

 

They continue dancing in silence until Kass’s tune takes a slower dive into another song, one Zelda doesn’t believe she’s heard. It’s soothing and romantic, like a dewy balm in the night.

 

“I can’t remember your bard,” Link says. “What was he like?”

 

“Oh,” Zelda says, being yet again assaulted by a strange nostalgia—the song Kass plays and the memories of her musician rising to the surface. “He was…kind. Knowledgeable and artistic. He was good company, and someone beside Robbie and Purah to talk with about the guardians and research.”

 

“Was he around often once I became your guardian?”

 

“No…not often. Sometimes—I think you met him once or twice. We spent most of our time together before you came along, Link,” she says.

 

“Did I like him?”

 

The question makes Zelda laugh. “Oh, Link, I don’t think you cared one way or another about him. You were so severe and unreadable, then. I didn’t even think you liked music.”

 

“I must have been very serious if you couldn’t tell that.”

 

“You were,” she says. “But I’m glad you like it. It’s one of the things in life that I take much joy from.”

 

“You’ve finally danced, too,” he says. “Are you enjoying it?”

 

The dancing has taken a backseat to conversation, and the sun is fully set now, covering them in a haze of torchlight. But the mixture of it all—the movement, music, the intimacy, and the company—is so pleasant, Zelda isn’t sure how to describe it.

 

“Yes,” she says, her eye falling to where her hand is placed near his neck. His hand on her hip and her other hand resting in his own are two natural points of heat and distraction, and she has yet to acclimate to it. “I love this very much.”

 

She realizes, after the words have already slipped out of her mouth, how she could not have picked a worse line of words to say. Her tongue shrivels up in her mouth, and she feels her body go stiff. She keeps her eyes in line with her hand on his shoulder, not daring to look at his face.

 

“Good,” Link says, low and gentle, in a way that Zelda deems _too_ low and _too_ gentle. It’s as if he doesn’t mind her word choice, and his simple affirmation soothes her like one of his horses.

 

_Is he trying to_ tame _me?_ she thinks abruptly. Then she rolls her eyes at herself. _No, Zelda, you’re not a wild animal. It’s not like you’re a skittish deer that’s going to run away at the first inquiry of the song—no. Of_ course _not._

 

But he _is_ leading now, she notes, and she can’t for the life of her figure out when that occurred. He’s using the deeper tone of voice that’s accustomed to calm people down. She’s got to admit, however, that his voice is like a blanket—heavy and thick, and it wraps around her in a snug embrace.

 

Another glance at her hand on his shoulder, and it dawns on her that her elbow has bent, and they’re standing half a distance closer. A nervous twinge pinches her stomach, and her heart flutters against it.

 

_Thank Hylia he’s wearing his bracer, or he’d feel how clammy and sweaty my hands are_ , she thinks.

 

“He’s beginning to play my favorite song of his,” Link says. The song change is at a significantly lengthier pace. Though it is beautiful, it’s…well, it’s slow. Zelda tries to let her face persists in a blank and indecipherable state, so that Link remains oblivious to her inner turmoil. She doesn’t know why she tries. Her poker face is nonexistent.

 

“Oh?” she croaks. She clears her throat, peeking up at his face. It is closer than it was before, and Zelda swallows.

 

Link’s expression is serene, his eyes never leaving her face. “We should dance to it properly, don’t you think?”

 

“You mean…slow dancing.”

 

“Yes,” he says. “Only if you want to.”

 

Zelda almost gets angry at him for that—leaving it up to her, allowing her to tell him no.

 

Not as if she will. Even if she feels like she’s dying.

 

“Okay…” she says. “All that changes is that I have both hands on your shoulders,” she says, releasing his hand and placing it onto his shoulder, where his tunic immediately dries her sweaty palm. “And you put both hands on my hips. And we sway.”

 

When his hand grips her hip, she feels enclosed and surrounded in an increasingly agreeable way.

 

“Like this?” he asks her. It’s unnecessary. He knows what he’s doing. She can see it in the glistening of his eyes against the torchlight, the sheen of warmth lingering in them, and the gentle pull of his hands on her hips, bringing their bodies closer until they almost touch.

 

It’s dangerous, this dance.

 

“Yes,” she says softly. “Like this.”

 

Because they’re just about the same height, she can’t hide. She can’t hide from his stare, or duck her head, or shy away. She gets goosebumps when his breath touches her neck. She shivers when he looks into her, cutting through her. Her heart races, galloping up her throat.

 

Either it’s the melody in the background, or the echo of life around them, or the gentle, chilled breeze that prickles her skin. Perhaps it’s none of those things. Instead of hiding away from him, she takes a deep breath and attempts to uncover her most hidden form of courage. She stares back at him, as unabashedly as he does, and she does her best to memorize the lines his face creates in the moonshine and firelight.

 

Her fingers accidentally brush his neck, and he shudders under her touch. It surprises her—he’s so calm and collected, but as she wraps her fingers behind his neck, she can feel how tightly wound he is, the flicker of his skin as tight as a bowstring.

 

“Zelda,” he breathes. “About…about before…”

 

She fights against every instinct to run away. Instead, she glances down towards his chin and waits for what he’ll choose to say.

 

“I wasn’t sure what the words meant,” he says. “If it was only something inspiring from the journal of a romantic, well-versed poet, or if—.”

 

“It can be,” Zelda says, latching on immediately. “You’re right. They’re just words to a song. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

 

Link smiles, but he shakes his head. “No, Zelda. It’s always meant something.”

 

The words strike her in a funny way. They make her feel immeasurably sad, filling her up to the edges—because after this, where will they be? Their friendship will be mangled by emotions, overshadowed by their proportions, and things will change forever.

 

_He’s all I have_ , is her first thought. _I can run away to Impa,_ is her second.

 

“It’s easy to ignore,” she says, feebly.

 

He furrows his brows at her. “You want to ignore it?”

 

She bites the inside of her lip. Yes. No. She doesn’t know.

 

“Oh, Zelda,” he says, affectionate and warm. “Don’t cry.”

 

She doesn’t know that she is until he says it, the one singular tear breaching the barrier of her eye. It falls onto her cheek, and Link lifts a hand to wipe it away with his thumb. His palm remains there, cradling her face with his fingers and the coarsened leather of his bracer. His eyes are a dark, violet blue as he looks at her, and his face is solemn as stone.

 

“I don’t want to ignore it,” he says. His thumb grazes her bottom lip. She can’t breathe. The intensity of his stare shoots straight into her stomach.

 

“Link,” she whispers. “I…I don’t want to burden you with a problem that is mine, alone.”

 

This seems to darken his eyes more. “You’ve never been, nor ever will be, a burden, Zelda. And your… _problem_ is not a problem.”

 

He shifts closer, tilting her head with his hand. “Okay?” he asks, and it comes out as more of a demand.

 

She immediately recognizes him—this part of him. It’s who she saw frequently before, when everything was dire and stressful, and she felt inadequate and insufficient. It’s the same as when he was being protective, the same as when he’d show no expression to any stimulus outside of his duty.

 

She is suddenly swathed in a rush of emotion, because Link has all of his pieces aligned, built into a similar structure. She sees it. There are variations in the details, sure, and perhaps they’re rough around the edges, but he’s so whole that Zelda feels lightheaded from the flash of insight.

 

“Okay,” she says, and she means it. She is unafraid now, looking into his eyes, while the ballad plays with soft, lingering notes above them. Their hips bump each other. Her fingers curl around his neck, pulling him nearer until their noses touch.

 

“Link,” she breathes, her voice hitching and the words pouring out of her like an overflow. “I love you.”

 

She erases the half-inch between them, and she kisses him softly. Link kisses her back just as gently, and she thinks this is one of the most divine moments of her life. Her fingers feather into his hair, and his hand on her face twists into hers, cradling her head. The hand on her hip snakes its way behind her back, pushing their bodies until they’re flush against one another.

 

She can almost feel his energy flow through her, his heat, the thrum of his heart, and she knows this like it’s history, like it’s happened before one million times. It comes in a rush, bombarding her in layer upon layer, and she drinks it all up, saturating her mind and body with him.

 

Her head tilts automatically, and it becomes different. It becomes _more_. She feels more of him, this way, and she finds herself pulling on the back of his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. He accommodates for her, gripping her back like _that_ , and nibbling her lower lip _just enough_. Her mouth opens a little, and the experience builds on itself, because now she can taste him and explore such an intimate part of his body with her own. Her stomach pulls up and up, making her toes curl, giving her the impression of floating, of flying away, and all she can think—all she can do—

 

She moans.

 

It startles her so much that she breaks away from him. His lips chase hers until he realizes they’ve stopped.

 

“O-oh,” she blinks a few times. Link looks very…heady, and his eyes are half-lidded. “I didn’t mean to do that,” she mumbles, swallowing at his expression.

 

“I wouldn’t mind if you did that all the time,” he says, and his voice is gruff and throaty. Zelda’s never heard it that way before, and it’s like a pleasant punch in the stomach. The nerves in her stomach pull across it like fingers.

 

“You wouldn’t?” she says quietly.

 

Both of his hands find their way to her hips, except this time, he grips them like handholds. His thumbs press into their points, and she almost moans again _. I’m losing my mind,_ she thinks.

 

“No,” he growls, and he kisses her so thoroughly she forgets her name.

 

“You’ve done this before,” she states, breathless, when they break apart. She rests her forehead against his.

 

She’s thrilled to see that Link is breathing heavily, too, even though Zelda believed his endurance was somehow unlimited. “I haven’t.”

 

“But you’re so good at it.”

 

“So are you.”

 

“Maybe it’s just the novelty,” she says. “Since this is…new.”

 

“I guess we should continue, then. To see if the novelty will wear off.”

 

“Mm,” she hums. “I don’t want it to wear off.”

 

“Zelda, I don’t think it _can.”_

 

His voice is still thick as he says her name, and she kisses him again. She grips his face, and she has a mad desire to wrap herself around him, climb him like a tree as she had before in the labyrinth. She wants to lure out his innermost, uncontrolled self and unlock the rapture of what lies just underneath the calm surface. The things he’ll only show her and her alone.

 

_And the fairies_ , she thinks unconsciously and, albeit, sarcastically.

 

“I think you’re right,” she gasps between kisses.

 

“I’m glad you turned down your bard.”

 

Zelda tilts her head away from him, looking at him with a slight laugh. “What?”

 

He brings a hand up, running his fingers through her hair, his thumb following her jawline. “I was jealous. Did you not know?”

 

She squints at him. “No. Why?”

 

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Why not? He spent a lot of time with you. You enjoyed his company. He had a musical talent that I’d never successfully gain, and it was a talent you loved.”

 

“No wonder you looked so sour when he was around.”

 

“I thought you said indifferent.”

 

“With you, it was always hard to tell.”

 

He smiles. “I know what _you_ look like when you’re jealous.”

 

“I was not—“ she starts, immediately defensive, before she sighs. “Just a little bit.”

 

He chuckles warmly, and he kisses her again, calmer and softer. When they break away, he glances up to the fly landing. “It sounds like the celebration is over.”

 

Zelda realizes that the music has stopped, and she absently wonders how long they’ve been standing there, so absorbed and involved with each other.

 

“C’mon,” Link says, taking her hand. “We can grab beds at the inn and have dinner, if you’d like.”

 

Zelda agrees easily and looks at their intertwined hands. It’s so surreal. She’d been waiting a hundred years to get the opportunity to hold his hand, and be allowed to kiss him, and now she’s done both. She’s been on the receiving end of his enthusiastic reception of it all, which is more than she could have dared to hope.

 

She walks beside him up the ramps around the column of the village, bending their arms and curling her other hand around his bicep. She sighs and presses herself against him.

 

Once they secure their beds at the inn, Link sets up at the cooking pot to begin their dinner, and Zelda comes up to sit beside him.

 

“Do you know what salmon meuniere is?” she asks him as he rummages through his pack.

 

He nods. “Yeah. I made it for Kheel, once. One of Kass’ daughters. She wouldn’t go to practice before eating it.”

 

“She’s the one who told me about it,” she says. “She said I had to try it before leaving. Do you like it?”

 

“Zelda, I like everything,” he tells her, and she smiles. It’s true. He does. “I’ll make it for us.”

 

Once they tuck into their dinner, Zelda finds herself agreeing with Kheel. It’s hot and silky, stretching out the edges of her stomach.

 

“It’s delicious, Link,” she says.

 

“I’m glad you like it.” He ladles a second helping into his bowl. After a lengthy pause, he says, “I’m also…glad you told me, today.”

 

She stares into her emptying bowl. Demurely, she says, “Me, too.”

 

He bumps her leg with his own, and she bumps him back.

 

“You danced very well, today,” she says.

 

“It’s because you taught me.”

 

“Oh, I barely gave you any cueing. You’re a natural, like always.”

 

He makes a noncommittal noise. “I wanted to impress my teacher.”

 

She laughs. “Consider me impressed, then. You never stepped on my toes. Not even a little bit.”

 

“What kind of student would I be if I did that?”

 

“A terrible one.”

 

He looks over her, and she feels incredibly warm. _I’m still wearing his Snowquill tunic_ , she thinks. _I’ve been wrapped up in him all day._

 

“Slow dancing was my favorite,” he says.

 

“Hm, I wonder why.”

 

Link smiles at this, putting his bowl aside. He leans closer into her, his nose bumping her jaw.

 

“Because now I get to kiss you whenever I want,” he says against her neck. Zelda exhales in a tremor, and he kisses the pulse in her neck.

 

“Oh,” she breathes, automatically tilting her head to the side. She takes the bowl out of her lap and places it on the ground beside her, and Link reaches around to cradle the side of her head. He begins to suck on her, tracing the line of her throat and needling with his teeth, exploring her skin. She breathes out in a shaky exhale, turning towards him and tilting his head up to find her lips. She kisses him soundly, her fingers running down his chest and up his neck, exploring those hidden lines she remembers, created by the shadows of the night.

 

Link grips her hips and pulls her forward until she’s seated in his lap, legs straddling his sides with her knees. The position rivals what she wanted before—except it’s better this way. She can kneel, and she can lord above him. She can extend his head back and kiss him with the power of feeling like a queen with him underneath her, cupping her waist with his palms.

 

“Zelda,” he pants, and she pulls back just enough to see his whole face. She’s mussed up his hair, she notes. His eyes are glossy, and his lips are red, and it’s all at the hands of her actions. Something about that thought makes her heated beyond measure. 

 

“What?” she gasps.

 

A smile pulls at one side of his mouth. “Did you mean it when you said you think I’m handsome?”

 

The question is so ridiculous that Zelda can’t help laughing. She sits back down into his lap, becoming level with him once more.

 

“Link, is that a serious question?”

 

“It was news to me when you said it,” he says, still half-smiling. _More like smirking,_ she thinks. And good grief, it makes him all the more attractive.

 

“You’re alright, I guess,” she says, giving him a mock examination. “Your hair could use some work,” she teases, running her hand through it, realizing that his hair tie is nowhere to be found. She likes the length. It gives her something to grasp.

 

“It does?” he asks, frowning. “I wash it, sometimes.”

 

“I think it needs more combing, like this,” she says, dragging her nails against his scalp. His eyes flutter shut.

 

“Mm. Sure. You can comb it all you want, princess,” he says, and he leans forward to kiss her again.

 

The name reminds her of an endearment instead of a title, suddenly, and she can’t stop kissing him.

 

“Would you…” he pants. “Be opposed…to doing this all night?”

 

“You read my mind,” she moans, and he palms her bottom, pulling her until their hips are aligned. The friction and heat is luxurious and devastating—and wouldn’t it be wonderful if their bare skin came together like this? If she could slip a hand underneath his tunic and traverse the planes of his torso with her fingertips. If his hands could explore her in the same way. If her naked legs could fold around his hips. If she could make him moan just as effortlessly as he does her.

 

Zelda holds the thoughts in her head, and Link’s hands remain in areas that are both decent and not so decent, cradling and touching. She contains her basic desires, and so does he. They revel in the newness of their actions, succumbing to a slow and steady pace. It is simultaneously frustrating and wondrous, and it drives Zelda crazy.

 

They make it to the bed, eventually, Link forgoing the extra one he had reserved hours prior. He looks so at ease lying beside her—it’s a far cry from the other night in the Tabantha stable. The sight fills her with rampant bliss.

 

“You’re smiling,” he states.

 

“An astute observation,” she teases.

 

“Your cheeks are rosy.”

 

She squints at him. “Your eyes are dark.”

 

“It’s nighttime,” he deadpans. She scrunches her nose at him.

 

“They’ve been dark all night.”

 

“Your eyes are glassy.”

 

“So are yours.”

 

“Your hair is tangled.”

 

“ _Your_ hair is tangled.”

 

He smiles at that. “Your lips are swollen.”

 

She thinks a moment, glancing over him. “Your gloves are still on.”

 

“You’re happy,” he says, and Zelda’s caught off guard by this. “I mean, you’ve been happy ever since Ganon was destroyed, but you’re…happy. Full.”

 

Zelda opens her mouth, then she closes it. “Of course, I am…” She looks at him closer. “Link, what are you trying to say?”

 

She can almost see the words stuck behind his teeth, hiding under the clenched muscle in his jaw. He might be deeming something unworthy, or he might be deciding on something else entirely.

 

He says, “You’re beautiful.”

 

She blinks. “Link—“

 

“Everyone thinks so. I’ll have to keep my eyes on guard for any unwanted suitors.”

 

Not sure what to say, she feels her gaze fall to his chest. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Link says. “If nothing else in history was recorded, your beauty is something that stood the test of time, by word of mouth alone.”

 

She swallows, and she has no words for that, either. He brings up a hand, caressing her heated cheek with his thumb. She reaches up to it and curls her fingers in between his. She brings it down and begins to concentrate on unlacing his bracer.

 

When her fingers graze the skin of his forearm, he inhales sharply. “You used to do that—hold the laces of my bracer with your fingers.”

 

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, I did.” She slips it off him, her hand following the shadow of his vein to the crook of his elbow. She kisses the crease of his wrist.

 

“Did you ever do that?” he asks, and his voice is quiet as he watches her. His attention never strays.

 

“No,” she says. “This is new.” She looks up at him through her lashes, and she sees how the simple action affects him. His face is calm, but his chest heaves with a deep inhale.

 

“Did you ever want to?” he asks.

 

She keeps his hand near her face, holding it and rubbing her fingers over his palm. She’s never felt his hand so bare before, so vulnerable and free from any protection. He has calluses on his fingertips, roughened from his incessantly active lifestyle.

 

“I can’t say that I’ve _never_ wanted to,” she says, smiling a little bit. “After a time, I was curious what holding your hand was like.”

 

“We’ve held hands before.”

 

“You know what I mean—your whole hand. And just because I can, and we want to.”

 

He smiles indulgently, and a dimple appears in his cheek. Zelda sighs at the sight of it.

 

He brings her hand to his lips, and he kisses the top of it. “Princess,” he whispers, his tone dripping like darkened honey. “Would you mind if I stayed here with you tonight? I don’t feel up to moving to the other bed.”

 

She widens her eyes in mock shock. “Dear hero, how improper of you.”

 

“I’ll stay above the covers.”

 

“I’d prefer you under.”

 

“And you call me improper?”

 

She shrugs, smirking at him. “I don’t mind.”

 

When they eventually do find themselves under the blankets of the bed, she rests her hand and head on his chest, curled around one of his arms. She can hear the relaxed thuds of his heart, lazy and slow.

 

“Link?”

 

“Hm?”

 

She closes her eyes, acutely surrounded by him. “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

She moves a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know. Existing.”

 

His chuckle rumbles through his chest and into her, coating her body with his vibrations.

 

“Then I should thank you for the same thing.”

 

“No. I’ll take your thank you’s as kisses, please.”

 

“So demanding.”

 

“I’m a princess. I have needs.”

 

“By all means, your highness, I’m at your beck and call.”

 

She giggles, nuzzling further into his tunic. “Just what I like to hear.”

 

After a few minutes, he asks, “Zelda?”

 

On the verge of sleep, she slurs, “Mm?”

 

“I…” he pauses. “Goodnight.”

 

She smiles, sighing, “Goodnight, Link.”

 

Zelda falls into the wonderful void of dreamless sleep not moments after, her last thought—as senseless and impractical and magnificent as most are when overcome with sleep—is that they should fall asleep like this every night until the end of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write explicit scenes very often, and if I do, they aren't straight up smut. It's quite possible I'll change the rating for safety to give myself more room to challenge the boundaries, though. Also they're teenagers, and WE ALL KNOW HOW HORNY TEENAGERS ARE MKAY.

**Author's Note:**

> As a quick note, I don't mind any and all recommendations of favorite side-quests/shrine quests that I could intertwine in the story. Any ideas are welcome. :)
> 
> Also, go read Calm Waters Run Deep by MaryDragon, because that's basically my canon--her holding Link's brace is shamelessly from that story because I loved it.


End file.
